


It's Not the Goodbye, It's the Longing That Follows

by Jade4813



Category: Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:34:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23850160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade4813/pseuds/Jade4813
Summary: Zoey told Max that she needed more time, but time, it seems, has just run out. After she realizes her feelings a little too late, can the two of them find their way back to each other?
Relationships: Zoey Clarke/Max Richman
Comments: 104
Kudos: 154





	1. Chapter 1

Max Richman would always love Zoey Clarke. She knew it. Even before she knew his feelings went beyond friendship, she carried the awareness of his love in her heart. In her very bones. She never had to doubt it or to question it. Like the sun rising in the East and setting in the West, it was a simple fact, a reassurance and reality that she built her life around. He would always love her. Until, one day...he stopped.

She didn’t know the exact moment that she lost him. Maybe there was no one, single instant; maybe she lost him in a hundred tiny choices she made along the way. Every time she pushed him away so that she could continue to hide from herself. Every lie that passed her lips – not just to him, but to herself. _“I don’t know how I feel. I need more time.”_ Not always overt lies, but half-truths at the very least. She didn’t want to see, and so she closed her eyes to what was happening, even as he slipped through her fingers like tiny grains of sand.

She needed more time, she’d told them both. More time to process her grief. To heal. But even as she said the words, she knew they weren’t entirely true. She wasn’t trying to find her way through her grief. She was clinging to it.

Even after her father passed, as grief started to ebb into shallows with undercurrents that could pull her under without warning, rather than massive waves that swept her away, she still ran from Max. From his love and from hers. She clung to Simon, the two of them holding on to each other tight so they didn’t have to ask themselves why, long after they both knew the answer. They clung to each other, supporting each other in their pain while also holding each other to it. Because there was guilt to be found in the anger, in the bargaining, in the moving on. There was guilt to be found in each moment of happiness - a betrayal of the person they had so loved, that they could dare find joy in a world so changed by their absence.

So she ran, and she clung to Simon, and she held onto her grief in tribute to a man who never wanted her to make such a sacrifice. And throughout it all, Max was there for her. He held her when she cried about her father. Forgave her when her grief turned to purposeless anger that latched onto the nearest target. Made her mother laugh, even during their darkest moments when joy seemed like a distant memory. And he waited, as she deep down knew he would, while she clung to both her grief and the potential promise of future happiness. Refusing to fully accept neither, until she allowed herself to forget that his heart would not wait forever.

Their friendship made it through “Sucker” and “I’m Gonna” and “Bye Bye Bye.” Bruised, perhaps, but not broken. Fractured hearts seemed so insignificant next to all-consuming grief, and so they were put aside, for a time. Until, one night, Max stood in her doorway, his eyes sweeping over her face as though he was trying to commit every line to memory. He bent, pressing a kiss against her forehead, and said, “I’m glad you have someone like Simon to help you through this, Zo. I hope he makes you happy. You deserve to be happy.”

She wondered now if that was the pivotal moment, when Max didn’t slip slowly through her fingers but poured through her hands.

She lied to herself about what was happening, embraced denial even as the tones of his songs changed – from love and longing to anger and resignation, to regret and loss. To goodbye. There was still hope for them, she swore to herself. She just needed a little more time. He would still be there for her. She loved him, and even if she couldn’t admit it to herself, surely – _surely_ – he knew it. She found refuge in willful ignorance, even as she pushed him away.

She and Simon came together, broke apart, came together again. Until finally, they both admitted what they could no longer deny. To love each other was to leave, to want the other to put their guilt and their grief behind them, even at the risk of suffering through it alone.

And so it was that Zoey finally – _finally_ – began to heal, the scars etched deep into her heart a testament of how much she had loved, but no longer a hindrance or an excuse. In time, she accepted the truth she had wanted to deny before, because doing so felt like a betrayal. She missed being happy. She wanted to feel that way again, and her father would have wanted it for her. She didn’t betray him by embracing love and joy and a lifetime of happiness; she betrayed him by pretending he would have wanted her to resign herself to anything less.

After months of running from Max, she stopped and realized that he was the person she wanted to run to all along. And, just as she had once heard a heart song that hinted at the love that could be between them, she now heard the song that told her that she had missed her chance at the love she had taken for granted.

_“Take back now, my life you’re stealing. Yesterday was hell, but today I’m fine without you. Run away this time without you. And all I ever thought you’d be, that face is tearing holes in me. But today I’m fine without you. Run away this time without you. And all the things you put me through, I’m holding on by letting go of you.”_

After spending so much time pushing him away, she could no longer find the words to bridge the chasm that had formed between them. She truly looked at him for the first time in what felt like ages, and she realized his heart had stopped waiting for her. He had moved on, ready to find love with someone new. Someone who wasn’t scared to love him back.

Zoey should have expected it. Should have seen it coming. But she didn’t.

* * *

How had they come to this, Zoey wondered as she idled about the SPRQ Point entrance, pulling out her phone to be less obvious in her loitering. It was the end of the day, and she was hoping to catch Max on his way out of the building, treasuring these few short minutes they would share together, connecting briefly before separating to go about their own lives.

When did her friendship become something awkward and uncomfortable, filled with all the things neither of them had ever said? When did their time together become something she stole, instead of something they both treasured? How had she let it get to this point?

It was a familiar self-recrimination, but even knowing the answers to her questions didn’t help her find a path across the chasm that stretched between them. Still, she was lost in thought, her head bowed, and almost missed him when he walked by.

“Max! Hold up!” she called, jogging to catch up with him.”

“Hey, Zoey,” he greeted her with that soft half-smile of his. “Sorry; I didn’t see you there.” There was once a time he noticed every time she walked into the room. “So, how are things going on the fourth floor?”

Even with the distance between them, he was still kind. She didn’t know if that made it better or worse. “Oh, you know. The usual. We decided to shake things up this week and replaced the cereal bar with a pie bar. It was great in theory, but it’s mostly just led to arguments about what does and does not constitute pie.”

He laughed. “Let me guess…savory versus sweet? Well, if you ask me, if it isn’t sweet, it has no place on a pie bar.”

She let out an exaggerated gasp. “What? Haven’t you ever heard of Shepherd’s Pie? Half meat, half mashed potatoes. All amazing.”

Max paused, seeming to consider her point. “All right, I see your point, but it still has no place on a pie bar.”

“Well,” she began, swinging her arms back and forth as she tried to work up the nerve. “How about we grab some dinner at that Irish pub we used to go to, and I’ll see if I can change your mind.” Throwing him a tentative smile, she added, “I’ll even treat you to a free movie at my place after to make you feel better when you lose.”

He hesitated, a shadow passing over his face, before shaking his head. “Ah…I can’t tonight. I have a date. Some other time?”

Zoey’s breath caught in her throat at those four little words, _I have a date_. But she forced a smile and tried to sound upbeat and cheerful. “Oh, that’s okay. I mean, that’s great! You have a date!” It was entirely possible she was making it sound like she couldn’t believe he could or would get a date, which was rather painfully far from the truth, so she winced and backtracked. “I-I mean…is it anyone I know?”

Max shook his head. “No. Her name is Paige. We met at the coffee shop and just kind of clicked.”

Her head bobbing up and down like it was detached from her neck, Zoey asked, “And-and is it a first date?”

A long silence fell between them, and then he stopped on the edge of the sidewalk and turned to her. There was once a time she knew his face as well as she knew her own, and she would have sworn she could read him like a book, his every emotion evident in his eyes. But that book was closed to her, and she had no idea what he was thinking or how he was feeling when he said softly, “No, actually. We’ve been dating for about a month.”

There was a sharp, stabbing pain between her ribs, and she pressed her hand to her chest to try to dull the lingering ache that remained as it faded. “Oh. I-I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, well,” he acknowledged, ducking his head. “We don’t exactly talk like we used to.”

“No,” she agreed. “We don’t.” Then, taking a chance, she stepped forward and put her hand on his arm. “But…I’d like to get back to that. I miss you, Max.”

For just a second, she could swear she saw a flicker of the love she used to see in his eyes, but she blinked and it was gone, making it wonder if it had been a product of her imagination. A moment of wishful thinking. “I miss you too, Zoey.” He frowned, his expression uncertain, and then stepped forward and blurted, “Look, I wanted to say…I’m sorry about what happened with you and Simon. I know -”

“Max!” A woman’s voice broke in, cutting off what they were about to say. “I thought it was you.” The woman was tall, dressed in a suit, her strawberry blonde hair artfully draped around her face in a way that highlighted her full lips and classic cheekbones. “I was just on my way to meet you at the restaurant, but I got out a little late, so I’m glad I didn’t keep you waiting. Do you want to walk together?”

“Sure!” he agreed readily, turning from Zoey to steal a kiss from this gorgeous stranger’s lips. “Let me introduce you to someone first. Paige, this is Zoey.” From the look on her face, Zoey could tell the name didn’t ring any bells, yet another reminder of how far apart the two had grown. With a sheepish bow of his head, he explained, “She’s a friend of mine from work. From back when I was still on the fourth floor. Zoey, this is my girlfriend, Paige.”

Paige threw her a polite smile as the two shook hands and exchanged impersonal greetings. Then she turned her attention back to Max. “So, should we get going? I’ve had a long day, and I’m absolutely _starving_.” Caressing his chest with one slender hand, she added teasingly, “And you know how I get. You don’t want a repeat of the Captain Crunch incident, do you?”

Zoey hadn’t heard one of Max’s heart songs since he sang to her that he was moving on, so she was surprised when she heard the first faint strains of music in her mind. Grabbing hold of the hand Paige had placed over his heart, he began to sing. _“When all is said and done, I wish I needed no one. Never was up to me, just something in her way that sets me free, it seems so easy. And, yeah, I try to pay attention. But there’s only four things running through my mind.”_

Zoey watched as he danced around his new girlfriend the way he had once danced around her, his eyes filled with uncertainty and with longing. _“How hard will it be if she is nice to me? How bad will it get if I let her get to know me? Should she see the willing dog, or should I be a jungle cat? And most of all, my god, how does she make her eyes do that? And I don’t need another girl inside my head.”_ Returning to stand in front of Paige, he replaced her hand on his chest and crooned, _“Girl inside my head.”_

The music faded, things returned to normal, and he laughed at whatever private joke it was that the two of them shared as though nothing amiss had occurred. Which, of course, for the two of them, it hadn’t. “Oh, no! It’s that bad? We really should get moving!” But still he lingered, turning back to Zoey. “Um…I have to go, but…I meant what I said. I really do want to catch up with you sometime, okay? I…it’s been too long.”

“Yeah, of course,” she agreed, feeling hollow inside. “Enjoy your dinner, you two.”

Through a sheen of tears she couldn’t shed, Zoey watched as he threw one final look at her over his shoulder, like there was more that he wished he could say, but then he gave his head a small shake and turned his attention back to the woman by his side. He wrapped his arm around Paige’s waist, pulling her in as he murmured something in her ear that made her laugh, and she leaned against him in casual, unguarded affection as they strolled together down the street. The picture of two people very much in love.

Leaving Zoey behind, to imagine what could have been as she gathered the shattered remains of her heart. While the memory of Max’s heart song to another woman echoed in her ears.


	2. Chapter 2

“So, Zoey, Paige began abruptly, her smile falling as she leaned forward over her drink. They were sitting across from each other at the coffee shop, where Paige had suggested they meet that morning to grow more acquainted. “You’re probably wondering why I wanted to meet you here today.”

Zoey nodded. When Max had texted her the night before with Paige's request, she’d hesitated before accepting, not knowing what to expect. She’d been reassured at the thought that Max would be there, but he was apparently running late, so they were momentarily left to their own devices. “Oh…well, I guess I thought…” She blew out a breath and shook her head. "Okay, I'm not sure what I thought."

Leaning back, Paige ran her finger along the rim of her cup and confessed, “When I met Max, he was honest with me. He told me that there was someone that he’d had feelings for, but it didn’t work out. He told me he was still not sure he was over her yet, but he was trying to move on.” Zoey felt her cheeks go bright red, but when she looked around, she didn’t see any convenient fires break out to save her from this torturous conversation. Paige continued, “Last night, he told me the person was you.”

Apparently seeing that Zoey wanted to flee – if she could only move – Paige put her hand up in a halting gesture. “It’s okay. I’m not here to attack you. And you’ll have to pardon me if I’m a little blunt. Some people think it’s one of my more endearing qualities, but it drives my family up the wall. The thing is, I’m a busy woman, and I don’t believe in wasting time. So I just wanted to meet you so we could clear the air, and I could tell you…I know. I know about the history between you and Max.”

Zoey felt like she was two pages behind in a very important book, and she was struggling to catch up. “I – and you’re okay with…with everything?” she stammered.

Paige grimaced. “Well, look, I’m not going to lie. I’m not _thrilled_ about it. But I also know Max is an adult; he didn’t just sprout from the ground the day before we met. He has a history, and that history comes with…emotional baggage. But I wanted you to know that I know. And I wanted to look you in the eye and ask…is the history between you two going to be a problem?”

“I – no!” Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and said, “The thing with me and Max is, whatever it could have been, we kind of missed our window. Now we’re just friends. Good friends. We both moved on, dated other people. Whatever that was…it’s behind us now.”

Paige seemed to consider her words and then sat back in her chair with a smile. “All right, then.”

“That’s…it? You’re not going to tell me you don’t want the two of us to hang out, or -?”

She shook her head. “I don’t believe in having to put those kinds of restrictions on a relationship. If the only way I can keep Max is to keep him from hanging out with you, then he was never mine to begin with.” She took a sip of her drink, and when she looked at Zoey again, her smile was bittersweet. “Look, I’m not an idiot. I know you don’t just…get over someone that you loved, just like that. I know it takes time. If it happens at all. To Max’s credit, he was very up-front with me from the start. I knew what I was getting into with him. And, frankly, he’s worth taking the chance on. But I wanted to make sure you and I were on the same page, because as I told Max last night…I can’t be someone’s consolation prize. If it ever comes to the point where he realizes that he can’t put me first, I’d rather just walk away. And I’m…I’m asking you for the same courtesy. I love Max, but I’d rather know and have to leave than be made into a fool.”

“I…I don’t think you’re a fool, Paige. I think…Max is lucky to have you. And for what it’s worth, I think he cares about you very much. I would never get in the way of that. I just want him to be happy, that’s all.”

Paige grinned at her. “I appreciate that. And I may not be _thrilled_ that the girl he was so hung up on is also his best friend, but I do like you. I wish I didn’t. But I do.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Zoey saw Max breeze through the door to the café, smiling that sweet smile she loved so much. She felt the familiar twist of longing in her heart, but she tried to ignore it. The thing was, she found that she liked Paige, too. And she’d been telling the truth. All she wanted was for Max to be happy. If he was happy with Paige…Zoey would respect that. If she really loved him, it was the very least she could do.

“Sorry I’m a little late, ladies!” Max greeted them brightly, sliding into a seat next to Paige and leaning over to give her a kiss. “Did I miss anything?”

“Just your coffee!” Paige teased him, rolling her eyes good-naturedly at Zoey, making her smile.

Chuckling, Max jumped to his feet. “Right. Be right back.”

Zoey watched him leave and then turned to look at Paige, who was staring longingly after him. She heard the faint strains of music begin to play and sucked in a deep breath, knowing what was about to happen. “Oh, boy,” she breathed.

_“I don’t know what it is that makes me love you so. I only know I never want to let you go. ‘Cause you started something, can’t you see? That ever since we met you’ve had a hold on me. It happens to be true. I only wanna be with you.”_

Zoey squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to watch this. She was still trying to get over her own feelings for Max. The love that had been hers for a time, that she had refused to see until it was gone. She didn’t know how she was going to watch Paige hold everything she’d ever wanted, if only she hadn’t realized it a little too late.

But as the song continued, she forced herself to open her eyes and watch. _This_ was what Max deserved, after all. Being loved, and knowing he was loved.

Paige stood and danced around the café, twirling around Max with a flirtatious smile. _“It doesn’t matter where you go or what you do. I want to spend each moment of the day with you. Look what has happened with just one kiss. I never knew that I could be in love like this. It’s crazy but it’s true. I only want to be with you.”_

Max was joking with the barista, laughing at something the younger girl said, completely oblivious as his girlfriend leaned back against the bar and sang, _“You stopped and smiled at me, asked me if I’d care to dance. I fell into your open arms, and I didn’t stand a chance. Now listen honey, I just want to be beside you everywhere. As long as we’re together, honey, I don’t care."_

She followed him back to the table, sliding back into her seat next to him. _“‘Cause you started something, can’t you see? That ever since we met you’ve had a hold on me. No matter what you do. I only want to be with you. No matter what you do. I only want to be with you.”_

The song ended, and Zoey marveled that Paige could look so nonchalant. If she hadn’t just heard her heart song, she would have no idea that the other woman was falling so hard. Max laid his arm across the back of his girlfriend's chair, idly stroking her bare arm with his fingertips as he asked cheerfully, “So, now that I'm sufficiently caffeinated, what did I miss?”

“Nothing much,” Paige replied, scooting her muffin a little closer to him so he could steal a bite. “We were just getting to know each other a little better. You were right! Zoey’s pretty amazing!”

“I’m amazing?” she protested with a disbelieving laugh. “No, it’s Paige over here who’s just…” She lifted her hands, mimicking an explosion on either side of her head. “POW! She’s incredible, Max. Really.”

He threw Paige a warm smile, unconsciously twirling a lock of her hair between his first two fingers. “Yeah, I think so too,” he admitted softly.

Zoey couldn’t take it anymore. Seeing that look in his eyes, directed at another woman, hurt too much. Remembering how that look had once been hers. She needed some fresh air. “I…is that the time?” she blurted. She had no idea what time it was, actually, but it was the first thing that came to mind. “I’m really sorry, guys, but I have to get back. I’ve got a big…thing due today. I should really get back to it. But Paige, it was lovely meeting you. Max, I’ll see you later!”

They barely had a chance to say their goodbyes before she raced out of the café, heading back to work. Putting as much distance between Max and her broken heart as possible.

* * *

Max was preoccupied when he returned to work. He’d struggled so long to put his unrequited love for Zoey behind him, so he could focus on being the friend she just wanted him to be. He still wasn’t sure he was entirely there yet. Every once in a while, he found himself wondering what could have been, but he was trying. Paige wasn’t Zoey, and he knew that, but if he could just let himself, he thought he could make her happy. The two of them could be happy together.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t hear the first two times someone called his name, only managing to pull himself together when they stopped by his desk to tell him Joan wanted to see him. That gave him a whole different reason to be distracted, so he turned his attention to trying to anticipate the next problem with the Chirp as he rode the elevator down to the fourth floor.

When he stepped into Joan’s office, however, he found that the two of them weren’t alone. Zoey was sitting in one of the chairs, her knees pressed tight together, her hands restless as they fiddled with the edges of her notebook.

“Oh, good. I was afraid I was going to have to send out the search and rescue team on you both,” Joan greeted him shortly. “I called you both here because I’ve gotten a call from Danny Michael Davis – or at least his people – and he wants to set up a meeting in two weeks to get a look at where we are with the Chirp. Can either of you guess the problem with that?” She threw them both a steely glare.

“We’re massively behind,” Zoey mumbled.

She looked so miserable, Max blurted in an attempt to comfort her, “Well…I wouldn’t say _massively_ behind. Maybe more like… _significantly_ , but it's manageable, I'm sure!”

Joan was having none of it. “I would have said _epically_ , myself. The point is, we need to get things back on schedule. Or at least to something that in some way resembles a schedule. So for the next two weeks, I want the two of you to get your teams working together on this. Every other project you're working on now? Gets shelved. Immediately.”

Max felt a traitorous surge of joy that he quickly tamped down, but Zoey looked absolutely mortified. “I’m sure that’s not necessary!” she protested.

“Really? Let me lay this out for you, then. Danny Michael Davis let me take over the Chirp project when Ava transferred to another division because I convinced him that I could oversee both teams and get the project done. If he thinks that we can’t perform to his expectations, you know what he’ll do?”

“He’ll bring back Ava,” Zoey mumbled.

“And I’ll be out of a job,” Max finished. He’d be lucky if that was as far as her retaliation went, frankly.

“Right.” Joan leaned forward across her desk and threw them both earnest looks. “Look. Zoey…Max…I know that the two of you have…a history. But you’re also team managers, and you’re in those positions because you’ve proven you can get results. I need to know that you can put…whatever your history is behind you and get the job done. You can do that, right?”

Max glanced over at Zoey, and he saw his own feelings reflected in the expression on her face. The two of them nodded. “Of course we can,” Zoey reassured their boss.

“Good. Then get to it.”

Max knew a dismissal when he heard one, but he still hesitated. “The thing is, it’s going to be inconvenient our teams have to run up and down two floors any time we need to get something done,” Max pointed out. “If we’re going to get back on schedule, we need to figure out a way to increase efficiency. I could transfer one of my people down here, and…”

Joan cut him off. “I’ve been thinking about that, actually. I talked with the contractor today, and the fifth floor renovations are almost done. I’ve been told your teams will both be able to use the space temporarily while we work through this project, starting tomorrow. A couple of the relaxation rooms still need to be painted, but they swore they would stay out of your way."

“Oh…” Max began.

“…Great!” Zoey finished. “Tomorrow. That’s great.”

They exchanged looks as they walked out of Joan’s office. Max knew he should get back to work, especially since he would need to prepare his team to put all other work aside for a couple of weeks. But still, he lingered.

“Ah…so,” Zoey finally began. “If we’re going to work together on this, we should probably work out a new timeline…”

He nodded. They would also have to make sure they were clear about where the project was currently, what they could conceivably accomplish in the next two weeks to get them more on schedule, and iron out the various duties and roles for each member of their team. Though he knew the obvious solution, he was a little hesitant to suggest it. He was in a good place in his attempt to get over Zoey, but he would have preferred to keep a little distance from her until he was sure that his heart was on slightly firmer footing.

There was nothing to be done for it. If the two of them didn’t get started on this immediately, he’d be out of a job. And possibly out of the industry, as well, since Ava would probably try to blacklist him in retribution for the part he’d played in her transfer.

It was just work, he reminded himself, clearing his throat. He and Zoey were professionals. Colleagues. Friends. He didn’t have to overcomplicate things like this. “Listen, why don’t you come over tonight for a couple of hours after work? We can go over everything and work out a game plan for the project.”

She threw him a dubious look. “Really? You’re sure that’s a good idea?”

He wasn’t, but he nodded anyway. “Absolutely. I’ll call Paige and let her know what’s going on, so she won’t…uh…get the wrong idea. And if it’s okay with you, I’d like to invite her to join us. She won’t be able to help, of course, but she can hang out.” She wouldn’t worry that there was anything untoward going on between the two of them, he meant, but it seemed presumptuous to say the words aloud.

Zoey seemed to be on the same wavelength, however, because she sighed in relief and nodded. “Oh, yeah, that’s totally fine! So, what time were you thinking?”

He grimaced at the thought of the amount of work before them. “How about six? I can order dinner in, and we can eat while we work. I think it might take a while to iron things out.”

She nodded, but her smile was tight as she stepped back. “All right. Six. Your place. For work. Sounds…good. See you then.”

Max watched her walk back to her desk before pulling out his phone to dial Paige and fill her in. He swore to himself that he and Zoey would come up with a different plan, if Paige had even the slightest reservation about what the two had proposed. If he was honest with himself, he had to admit that part of him hoped his girlfriend would have a problem with it, that she would give him an excuse to cancel their work date. No, appointment. Their work appointment. Because he loved Paige – or, at least, was falling in love with her, he thought. Maybe. But as much as he wanted to move forward with her, he was still a little nervous about what being so close to Zoey would do to his heart. He never had been able to resist her. Not really. And deep down, he wondered if he ever get to a place where he could.

While he contemplated the reaction Paige would have to this bit of news – and still tried to work out his own reaction – he dialed her number and waited for her to answer. He heard two rings, and then her voice carried over the line. She sounded so warm and happy, he found himself smiling automatically in response. Until he remembered the purpose for the call, that is.

“Hey, Paige. I hope I’m not bothering you at work. I just…there’s a bit of a situation here at SPRQ Point.” Speaking quickly, he filled her in with broad stroke details before explaining, “Since our teams are going to be working together on this for the next couple of weeks until the big meeting, I suggested she come over tonight so we could work on a game plan.”

The other end of the line had fallen silent, and he was scared what she might be thinking. Though, really, he knew what she was probably thinking. So he rushed to add, “And I was thinking…uh…you know, if you’re free…it might be a little boring, but I could order in that Chinese food you like and if Zoey and I finish up with work early enough, maybe you and I could watch one of those terrible movies you love so much.”

Paige burst out with a small, if not entirely genuine, bark of laughter, breaking the tension that had fallen between them. “I’m not the one who likes bad movies, Max. You are. I just suffer through them for your sake. You’re lucky I find you so adorable.”

Hoping her light teasing meant she wasn't hurt or angry, he murmured, “Yeah. I am. So, about tonight…?”

She hesitated. “Well, I’m pretty much in the weeds right now at work, so I don’t know what time I’ll be getting out. But I guess I could come by when I get done here.”

“Great!” Though he was relieved, his smile fell as he told her softly, “I just…I want you to know this is a little weird, given…everything. But there’s nothing… I – I’m not trying to -”

“It’s for work,” she broke in. “I understand. Really. I’m not entirely comfortable with it. But I understand. I trust you. Just…Max? Thank you. For being honest with me.”

“Of course,” he reassured her, hanging up the phone. He was going to have to make sure that, over the next two weeks, he didn’t give Paige any reason to suspect her faith in him had been misplaced. But when he caught a glimpse of Zoey’s familiar red hair out of the corner of his eye, for one second, the sight brought back the old, familiar surge of conflicting feelings that he’d wrestled with for so long. Love. Longing. Pain. Regret. All those things he’d tried to put behind him. And he wished he had a little bit more faith in himself.


	3. Chapter 3

“Okay, so I’ve been looking at the timetable, and I know we want it to be ambitious, but I’m not sure it’s practical. Even with two teams collaborating. I’ve made a couple of adjustments,” Zoey explained, tilting her keyboard so Max could look at the screen

While he was distracted looking over the revised schedule (and pondering the implications), she studied him out of the corner of her eye. His hair, which was normally brushed off his face, was tousled from the number of times he’d run his hands through it. The way it fell over his forehead gave him an adorably rumpled look, and her fingers itched to brush it back, to caress the curves of his features that she could draw from memory. He looked tired but focused, in a way that he never used to be back when they worked together on the fourth floor. Had she somehow been holding him back all that time, or had he really needed distance from her to find his purpose? Either thought was depressing, and she couldn’t afford to lose herself in a fantasy of what might have been, at any rate. He was with Paige, now. He was happy. It was what he deserved.

With that thought, she stood and stretched, only realizing when she moved how long the two of them had been hunched over their computers. Rolling some tension out of her shoulders, she heard her stomach grumble and blushed. “You know, we never did get around to ordering dinner. Want me to call something in?”

Max looked up at her with a slight frown as he tried to pull his thoughts away from timetables and onto the question. Then his face morphed into a sheepish smile. “Ah…yeah, actually. That would be great. I can’t believe it slipped my mind.”

“That’s okay.” There was so much work to do, they’d both jumped right in. “Is, um – should I order something for Paige?”

He looked uncertain, pulling out his phone to look at the screen. Scanning his texts, he sighed. “Looks like she’s still wrapped up at work and grabbed some dinner already. That’s okay. I’ve got some of her favorite ice cream in the freezer, if she’s in the mood for dessert when she gets back.”

Zoey turned away and dialed the number for their favorite Chinese delivery before he could read her thoughts on her face. She felt a brief stab of jealousy as she wondered how often Paige stayed over, but she quickly reminded herself that it was none of her business.

“I guess this looks good,” he finally agreed, turning away from her computer screen. “As long as Joan signs off on it.”

“It’ll take some convincing,” she conceded. “But even she has to recognize we can hardly get back on schedule if we’re all dead from exhaustion.”

He threw her a dubious look. “I don’t know that recognizing that has historically been Joan’s strong suit,” he joked. Then, as though coming to the same realization Zoey had moments before, he rose and stretched, causing Zoey to turn away abruptly at the reminder of the muscles hidden under the thin fabric of his shirt. She’d had a hard enough time resisting the urge to touch them back then, and that was before she’d realized how she felt about him. Now that he was off limits, the memory of his bare chest had to be off limits, too.

When she turned around, she caught sight of a photograph hanging on his wall that she didn’t remember ever noticing before, and it made her catch her breath. She walked forward to get a closer look, her eyes filling with tears. It was a picture of Max and her dad, sitting side by side on the back of a boat they’d rented one lazy summer afternoon a few years before. They were both laughing, squinting slightly into the sun, looking relaxed. Happy. Healthy. And, so, so alive.

With one trembling finger, she reached out to stroke the image of the man she missed so much, captured forever behind a thin pane of glass. Behind her, Max said, “I’m sorry, Zoey. I – I didn’t even think… I don’t mean to upset you. I can take it down if you -”

“No,” she blurted, before he could reach for the frame. “It’s okay. Really. It’s just…” Turning around, she brushed a tear off her cheek with one knuckle and whispered, “He really cared about you.”

“I really cared about him,” he murmured. Stepping forward, he reached for her, but he hesitated before they could touch. Instead, his hands fell back to his sides as he said, “Zoey, there’s something I – I’m sorry. After your dad…well, with everything that happened. I wanted to be there for you.”

She shook her head. “I know. You tried, Max. I was the one who pushed you away.”

“Why is that?” he asked, his voice soft and sad.

Zoey bit her lower lip, throwing him a slight, awkward shrug. “Because you knew him. Because he loved you. I was in so much pain, and I know it probably doesn’t make any sense, and it certainly isn’t fair, but seeing you…it reminded me of him. And I just…I couldn’t handle it. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She looked away from him so he wouldn’t see pain on her face as she lost herself briefly in the memory. In all of the awful memories. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him reach for her, willing to let her cry against his chest as she once had, but she stepped away. If he held her, she wouldn’t have the strength to step away. It would feel like she was giving him up, all over again.

So instead, he stepped back, giving her space as he said in a low voice, “Zoey, what I said the other day…I meant it. I’m glad you had someone you could turn to. Even if it wasn’t me. I’m glad you had Simon, and I know…well, I know you cared about him. I’m sorry things didn’t work out between you two. You deserve to be happy. Your dad would have wanted that for you.”

She nodded. “I know.” Taking a deep breath, she added, “And you deserve to be happy, too. I just…I want you to know that Paige is…she’s amazing.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, retreating another step. “She is.”

Though she knew it was probably inviting trouble, she couldn’t resist the urge to ask, “Do you…are you in love with her?”

He sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Maybe. I…I want to be.”

Zoey didn’t know what to make of that answer, but it turned out it didn’t matter. As Max answered, she heard the front door open, and the woman in question breezed in. Paige looked surprised to see them both standing in the living room, though they were separated by several feet. “Hey, hon,” she greeted Max warmly, dropping her purse by the door. “Sorry I’m so late.”

He smiled, and like that, the tenuous honesty and vulnerability they had exchanged was gone. Max smiled and walked over to his girlfriend, giving her a quick kiss. But Zoey noticed that Paige’s eyes were troubled when he turned away, though she tried to cover it with a smile. Hoping it was just a sign that she’d had a rough day – and not that Zoey’s presence was causing a problem in their relationship – she hastily retreated to her computer to focus on work until their food arrived.

* * *

“So there I am, with the rope to the raft wrapped around my wrist, cutting off all oxygen to my hand, and Mitch went full-throttle – I mean, if we’d been in a car, he would have _floored_ it. Between that and the wind catching the raft, I went _flying_ backwards because I apparently never learned that when someone says to hold onto something, you…you know…”

“You hold onto something?” Paige offered through her laughter. Seeing her so happy made Max smile. For the first few minutes after arriving at his apartment, she’d been tense, her expression anxious. But over time, as Max and Zoey finished up work for the night, she seemed to relax and was enjoying hearing about some of Max’s more embarrassing antics.

He was happy to indulge her. “Right! So I’m flying backwards, and poor Zoey didn’t even see me coming. I go careening into her full speed, and next thing I know, we’re going off the back of the boat and into the water.”

Still laughing, Paige managed to ask, “So what happened with the seagull?”

Zoey grinned. “Oh, it totally still got his sandwich.”

Paige lost it, and Max turned his head to see Zoey watching him, a wide smile on her face at the memory. At first, he’d been concerned that the reminder of her father would upset her, but she seemed to appreciate the opportunity to reminisce. The two of them exchanged a soft smile, remembering the man they’d both loved in different ways and lost, but then Zoey got a curious, almost dazed expression on her face as Paige’s laughter died down. Though he hadn’t seen it in a while, Max recognized the look. She was hearing a heart song, and he wondered which of them was currently singing to her in her mind.

Zoey sighed, her gaze dropping to the table, and a minute later, she rose to her feet. She didn’t look at him as she said, “I hate to call it a night, but it’s late. I should head out. Um….I think the new timeline looks great. Thanks for helping me get that ironed out tonight.”

“No problem,” he replied, standing to walk her to the door. He wished he could ask her what she had heard, but he couldn’t. Not with Paige standing there. It would be too much to explain – and too much to ask her to accept as the truth from a near-stranger. But her gaze kept drifting over his shoulder to look at Paige, standing behind him. “My team will be really excited to hit the ground running tomorrow.”

After Zoey left, he turned around, ready to give Paige his undivided attention. “Hey,” he said with an apologetic smile, reaching out to pull her into his arms. “Sorry it went so late tonight.”

“That’s okay,” she reassured him, resting her cheek against his chest. He could tell she was choosing her words carefully from the hesitation in her voice as she asked, “Is this something that’s going to happen a lot over the next couple of weeks, though?”

Trying to keep his face impassive, he admitted, “It might. We have a lot of work to do, and Joan is putting a lot of pressure on both our teams to get it done on schedule. I’m sorry. I don’t…If we don’t get this done, I could lose my job.”

“I understand,” she said with a sigh. “It’s just…I don’t mean to be this way, but it’s…weird. I guess it’s harder than I thought it would be.” Leaning back, she cupped his face in her hands and said, “I know you’re trying, Max. I do. But it’s hard not to be a little jealous. Knowing how much you love her.”

He shook his head. “I…my feelings for Zoey…that’s all in the past, Paige. I know there’s some history there, but we’re just friends. And coworkers.” Seeing the skeptical look she was trying to hide, he kissed her briefly. “Hurting you is the last thing I want to do, but I wouldn’t lead you on, either. If I had any doubts that my… _situation_ with Zoey was in the past, I would tell you.”

She nodded and stepped out of his arms. “All right, well…it’s late,” she murmured, taking his hand. “Let’s go to bed.” Though she pretended to believe him, as they climbed into bed together a short time later, it occurred to Max that it was the first night she didn’t reach for him in the darkness. And though he wanted to reassure her, he realized he didn’t know how to bridge the gulf that had started to grow between them.

But still he held on, because letting go would be admitting to something he didn’t want to face, even to himself: the idea that maybe, no matter how hard he tried, Zoey still held his heart. And - what scared him even more - maybe she always would.

* * *

Over the next week at work, Zoey tried to keep her mind off of Max, but it wasn’t easy when she had to work so closely with him. It didn’t help that their evenings grew longer as they immersed themselves in the project, often losing track of the hour until Paige stopped by with dinner – the first night, just for Max, but soon after, she started bringing food for the whole team, to keep everyone going. For her part, Zoey tried to keep her distance from Max, particularly when his girlfriend was around. Because while, on the surface, Paige seemed to be willing to accept that circumstances forced Zoey and Max to work closely together, she didn’t know about Zoey’s superpower. And from the songs Zoey heard, she knew Paige wasn’t as nonchalant about the situation as she appeared.

It had started the first night Zoey and Max had worked together at his apartment. She knew Max suspected she’d heard a heart song as the three of them sat around his kitchen table. Several times over the next day at work, she’d caught him looking at her out of the corner of her eye, his expression curious and contemplative. In those moments, she’d made sure to keep her attention diverted, afraid he would ask her what she’d heard. Not sure what she’d answer if he did.

The song she’d heard hadn’t been a song of love; nor had it been a song of heartbreak, exactly. It was a song of doubt, and that somehow made it worse, because for a moment, hearing Paige's doubt had selfishly made Zoey...happy. Didn't that make her a terrible person, and a terrible friend, that she still longed for Max when he was with someone else? In the aftermath of that feeling, and the guilt that immediately followed, she found she also wasn’t sure whether she should tell him about the song she heard. She was afraid it would seem like she was interfering in his relationship - and, if she was being entirely honest with herself, she wasn't sure she could say with complete confidence that the small, selfish part of her she was trying so hard to ignore didn't want to do just that.

Still, she couldn’t get it out of her head, watching Paige croon at Max, _“Tonight you’re mine completely. You give your love so sweetly. Tonight, the light of love is in your eyes. But will you love me tomorrow? Is this a lasting treasure, or just a moment’s pleasure? Can I believe the magic in your sighs? Will you still love me tomorrow?”_ Zoey had watched as Paige flung herself into Max’s lap, crooning against his chest, _“Tonight with words unspoken, you say that I’m the only one. But will my heart be broken when the night meets the morning sun? I’d like to know that your love is a love I can be sure of. So tell me now, and I won’t ask again. Will you still love me tomorrow?”_

Zoey had hung in there for as long as she could. Although Paige continued to sing, Zoey couldn’t listen any longer. She didn’t want to think about Max holding another woman, loving another woman. Being in love with another woman. She practically fled, needing to put as much distance between her and Paige – and Max – as possible.

But now, as Paige chatted with Tobin waited for Zoey and Max to wrap up their meeting so she and Max could go to lunch, Zoey heard the soft strains of a piano and closed her eyes, knowing another heart song was on the way. She looked over Max’s shoulder, her heart twisting at the longing and heartache in Paige’s voice as she began to sing.

_“I like the way you wanted me every night for so long, baby. I like the way you needed me every time that things got rocky. I was believing in you. Was I mistaken? Do you mean, do you mean what you say? When you say our love could last forever. Well, I’d rather you be mean, than love and lie. I’d rather hear the truth than have to say goodbye. I’d rather take a blow, at least then I would know. But, baby, don’t you break my heart slow. I_ _like the way you'd hold me every night for so long, baby. And I like the way you'd say my name in the middle of the night while you were sleep-”_

“Hey, you know, I can take care of this if you and Paige want to grab some lunch!” she practically yelled at Max, trying to break off the heart song. She didn't want to hear anymore. She couldn't bear to hear any more. Her voice was so loud, it caught Paige’s attention, who responded by murmuring something to Tobin before stepping forward, her footsteps slow, almost reluctant.

Max turned to her in surprise. “Are you sure? If we don’t find what’s causing that glitch, it’s going to throw the entire schedule off. I don’t want to leave you here to find it alone.”

She shook her head. “Of course I’m sure. I think we’ve almost found it, and Paige is waiting.” She gave his arm a nudge. “Go on, Romeo. Go be with your girlfriend.”

“Thanks, Zoey. I – I really appreciate it.” He started to walk away but stopped a second later and turned to face her again. His eyes were sad as he murmured in an undertone, too low for Paige to hear, “You know the thing about Romeo…things didn’t really work out for him and Juliet, did they?” But before she could find the words to comfort him, he turned back to Paige with that boyish smile that stole Zoey’s heart every time she saw it. And the two of them walked off together arm in arm, Paige laughing at something Max said as they stepped onto the elevator.


	4. Chapter 4

“I know what you’re thinking, and it’s a bad idea.”

Zoey turned and threw Simon an awkward smile as he walked up next to her. They were still trying to navigate the waters of post-relationship friendship, and it was still weird and uncomfortable. “What?” she asked with a forced laugh, trying to feign innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He nodded after the departing couple. “You have one of those _feelings_ you get, that there’s something wrong in their relationship, and you’re trying to decide if you should do something about it.” At her quizzical expression, he explained, “I’ve seen that look on your face before, remember?”

Blushing, she threw him a helpless shrug. “Okay, you have a point. But I’m only trying to help.”

“I know you are,” he reassured her kindly. “But you love him, and that means you can’t be unbiased about this. If you intervene and they break up, you’re always going to wonder if you had something to do with them ending things. He may, too, and he may even resent you for it. And if you intervene and they stay together, you’ll hate yourself for maybe throwing away your last chance with him. Either way, it’s a lose-lose situation for you.”

Zoey shook her head, throwing him a belligerent look. “Not necessarily!” she protested. “I mean, if he’s happy with her, then -”

“If he’s happy with her, then the two of them will work it out. Without any need for you to interfere.” He put his hand on her arm and gave it a friendly squeeze. “I know you may think you’re only trying to help, but are you sure there isn’t a part of you that hopes they don’t work out?” At her guilty look, he continued, “If you care about Max – and I know you do – you have to sit this one out. Let him figure things out on his own.”

Her gaze dropping to the floor, she nodded miserably, knowing he was right. As much as she wanted to help, she was the absolute last person on the planet who should be interfere in any of Max’s romantic relationships. So when he returned from lunch later that day, his mood cheerful but subdued, she didn’t ask him how lunch went, and she didn’t tell him about Paige’s heart song. She just focused on hiding her feelings from him for another day.

Two nights later, Zoey was trying not to go cross-eyed looking at streaming lines of code on her screen, when she heard the elevator ding and looked up to see Paige walk into the room. Her shoulders sagged with exhaustion, the lines of her face were drawn, as she gazed around the room for Max.

Catching her eye, Zoey was about to explain that Max had run to the restroom and would be right out, when Tobin came bounding up to her, a big grin on her face. Zoey sighed in relief as the two engaged in a hushed conversation, reminding herself of her promise not to interfere. Not that informing Paige of Max’s whereabouts was _interference_ , per se, but she figured it was still better if anything that had to do with Max came from somebody else.

“So, Zoey, I was thinking about our next steps, and I think -” Max said as he walked back into the room, launching her into the middle of a conversation he’d apparently been having with himself. His face fell when he saw his girlfriend, and he shot a quick glance at his watch as he hurried up to her. “Paige! Oh, god, I’m so sorry. I-I totally lost track of time. We were supposed to have dinner, weren’t we?”

“Yeah,” she said with a forced smile that didn’t make her disappointment. “But that’s okay. I somehow knew I’d find you here with,” she paused, her gaze carrying over to Zoey, but when she ended the sentence, it was to say, “work. Come on. We can pick something up on the way home.”

He grimaced. “Oh, well, I was just -”

Zoey called out, “He was just wrapping things up for tonight! It’s okay, Max. Actually, I think we should all head out and hit it fresh in the morning.” The rest of her team didn’t have to be told twice; immediately scrambling for the exit. When Max nodded at the members of his team, they followed, more than happy to call it a night. As they left, Zoey made an ostentatious show of leaning over to turn off her computer, so he wouldn’t think he was abandoning her to do work alone.

“Are you sure?” he asked, walking up to her desk. “You’re not planning to come back after I’m gone to work some more, are you? Because I’ve fallen for that before.”

The thought had occurred to her, so she threw him a guilty look. “Okay, you got me. But if it gets you to head out, I’ll really wrap things up for the night. Scout’s honor.”

He grinned when she made her admission and joked, “In case you’re wondering, it doesn’t hurt my feelings at all that you’re so eager to get rid of me.”

Zoey wanted to respond to him in kind, but when she looked over her shoulder, her words caught in her throat at the expression on Paige’s face. It was more than heartache; it was resignation, as well. Her smile falling, she gave her head a quick shake, and Max turned back to his girlfriend.

As Paige took his hand, she started to sing. _“Turn down the lights. Turn down the bed. Turn down these voices inside my head. Lay down with me. Tell me no lies. Just hold me close. Don’t patronize. Don’t patronize me. ‘Cause I can’t make you love me if you don’t. You can’t make your heart feel something it won’t. Here in the dark, in these final hours. I will lay down my heart, ‘cause I feel the power. But you won’t. No, you won’t. ‘Cause I can’t make you love me if you don’t.”_

Zoey’s heart pounded as Max wrapped his arm around Paige’s waist, escorting her to the elevator. Unaware that she continued to sing, even as she rested her head on his shoulder, _“I’ll close my eyes, then I won’t see the love you don’t feel when you’re holding me. Morning will come, and I’ll do what’s right. Just give me till then to give up this fight. And I will give up this fight. ‘Cause I can’t make you love me if you don’t -”_

In the time since first developing her superpower, Zoey had come to see it as a blessing. It gave her an opportunity to connect with people in ways she never had before. It had allowed her to communicate with her father, before he died. But now, watching Max’s relationship crumble before her eyes.- having witnessed the progression from the giddy honeymoon period to this, its imminent end – it felt more like a curse. Because Simon was right. Part of her had hoped Max and Paige would end things. And that realization made her feel guilty, because he’d found a way to be happy for her and Simon, and she couldn’t do the same for him.

Unable to bear the rest of Paige’s song, Zoey fled to the restroom to hide until they were gone.

* * *

Max felt queasy as he rode the elevator down to the ground floor, memorizing the familiar warmth of her hand in his for the last time. He couldn’t believe that he’d lost track of time and failed to meet her for their dinner reservation, but on the other hand, perhaps it had been a subconscious attempt to delay the inevitable. For the last few days, he’d had a growing sense of what he had to do, but he’d tried to ignore it. Until that morning, when a simple text had made him realize that he had to do the right thing. He had to end things with Paige.

It was strange that such a small thing would bring about such a momentous revelation, but the truth was, part of him had known this was coming. Maybe part of him always knew things would end this way, although he tried to deny it. He’d told himself he just needed a little more time. Until that morning, when his phone buzzed with an incoming call on his way into the building. For the first time, as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, he couldn’t pretend to himself that he didn’t know whose name he hoped to see on the screen. And it wasn’t his girlfriend.

That was when he knew for certain. He wasn’t being fair to Paige. He probably would never be able to be fair to Paige. And it had nothing to do with Zoey, not really. Or even the feelings he’d tried for so long to deny. It was simply that Paige deserved better than what he was able to give her.

As they walked across the lobby, Paige gave him a look of concern and asked in a subdued tone, “Are you okay? You look pale.”

He nodded, but he pulled her to a stop as they left the building and stepped onto the sidewalk. “Yeah. I’m just…listen, Paige…”

She didn’t protest. In fact, she looked like she knew what he was about to say. Her smile was stiff. Forced. “Let me guess. We need to talk? Yeah, I know.” She sighed. “Max…I need you to be honest with me. You don’t love me, do you?”

He’d never thought the conversation would go this way, and his heart twisted to see the heartache on her face. But it was just like Paige to be brave and face it head-on. It was one of the things he admired most about her. “I-I care about you, but –”

“Not enough,” she finished for him, slowly releasing his hand and stepping away, and he knew without a doubt, it was for the last time. “I know. I was hoping I could put off this conversation until we got back to your place. Or maybe until tomorrow, even, but I guess there’s no point in putting it off any longer.”

Before he could respond, she sucked in a deep breath. “I heard what you said to Zoey, the night she was at your place. You _might_ love me. You _want_ to love me. Max…I knew what I was getting into, dating you. And I thought it would be okay. For the past week, I’ve been trying to tell myself that it doesn’t bother me, to keep waiting for you to feel about me the way I’ve felt about you from the moment we met. But the thing is…maybe I’m selfish, but I don’t want to keep waiting. I don’t want to be with someone who _wants_ to love me. I want someone who just… _loves_ me. Because they can’t help themselves.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said softly. “I never meant to hurt you.”

Her chuckle was hard and just a little bit bitter. “Oh, I know. I wish you did, because maybe then I wouldn’t feel like I brought this all upon myself. a part of me keeps wondering why I guess it’s what I get for falling in love with someone whose heart still belongs to someone else. And the worst part is, you were honest with me, so I can’t even get drunk with my friends and bitch that you led me on. Nope! But, hey, at least they get to say they told me so! Everyone warned me this would happen, and I didn’t listen!”

She shook her head. “And would you believe that all week, I’ve been telling myself it’s your problem. Your loss. But there’s still a part of me that keeps wondering what I did wrong. Why I wasn’t good enough. That isn’t fair, is it? Why should I have to carry that doubt? You’re the one who couldn’t let go of the past.”

“Paige, no,” he protested, reaching for her but she pulled away. “You’re not a fool, and there is absolutely nothing – _nothing_ – wrong with you. You’re…incredible. And some day, some guy is going to be very, very lucky to fall in love with you.”

She took another step back, her gaze dropping to his chest. “Yeah, well…I guess there’s no point in dragging things out at this point, is there? We both know this is goodbye. I – um – I’ve left some things at your place. If you just throw them in a box and leave them at the front desk at my office, they’ll make sure they make their way to me. That way, we can avoid any awkward scenes or – or anything.”

His heart broke as he looked at her. He knew they were doing the right thing, but he still cared about her, and it hurt to see her this way. “I…Paige, I want you to know, I -”

“Don’t!” she blurted, cutting him off, and he watched her avert her head so he wouldn’t see her cry. “Don’t say it. I know you’re sorry, that this isn’t what you wanted. I just…I need you to be the bad guy right now, okay? Just for a little while. So can you just…can you give me that, at least? I need you to…don’t try to fix this, Max. Don’t tell me how sorry you are. Just tell me goodbye.”

Max nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets as he took a step back. “Goodbye, Paige.” He watched as she turned and walked away for the last time and then threw a look over his shoulder to the doors leading back to the SPRQ Point offices. He knew Zoey was still inside. He could return to the fifth floor and tell her what had happened. Pour out all his troubles to her, as he used to do, back when the two of them used to tell each other everything. Even though, with her superpower, he suspected she already knew.

But he didn’t. That was no longer the type of relationship he shared, and given the reason for his breakup, it didn’t feel right to turn to her at any rate. If his relationship with Paige had proven anything, it was that, try as he might, he wasn’t able to put his feelings for Zoey completely in the past. Not enough to make a future with anyone else, at least. But at the same time, he couldn’t go back to the way things used to be. Loving Zoey, waiting for her to choose him, even as she – in her confusion, her grief, and her pain – pushed him away.

So where did that leave him? Unable to move forward. Unwilling to go back. For tonight, at least, it left him walking home alone.


	5. Chapter 5

The hour was late, the sun had long since set, but Max was still at his computer, reviewing endless lines of code. He told himself – and anyone who asked – that he was just trying to help put things back on schedule, but the truth was, when he left, it would be to return to an empty apartment. With little there to distract himself from his thoughts.

It wasn’t that he regretted that he and Paige had ended their relationship. Deep down, he knew they’d done the right thing. But in the silence and the solitude, he had no choice but to examine why things had ended. And whether his feelings for Zoey were as comfortably in the past as he’d like to believe.

Speaking of Zoey, she’d stubbornly refused to head home at the end of the work day, and though he felt a little guilty that she might have decided to stick around for his benefit, he also felt a little relieved. He didn’t want to be alone, and the rest of their team had slowly tapered off as one by one, each coder packed up and headed home. Until it was just Max and Zoey – a situation that had once been so common as to be comforting in its familiarity but now felt foreign and maybe even a little dangerous. As much as he wanted the company, Zoey was perhaps the worst person he could turn to at this time, since he didn’t really want to examine the emotions her presence evoked.

“Zoey,” he said, leaning back in his chair so he could look over at her. “You know, you really don’t have to stay.”

“It’s fine!” she said cheerfully, though her eyes looked a little bleary and unfocused from her own code perusal. “If you’re working, I’m working.”

“You’ve covered for me before,” he tried one last time. “I really don’t mind getting you back.”

She threw him a wan smile before her stomach gave a loud rumble, and she shot a glance at the clock. “I have a better idea. Why don’t we both call it a night? We haven’t eaten in…nine hours. Wanna grab some food?” At his momentary hesitation, she offered hesitantly, “Oh…I’m sorry. I didn’t think…do you and Paige…I didn’t even think to ask if the two of you have a date tonight.”

Feeling a little ridiculous, Max shook his head. “No, it’s fine. We don’t, actually. Paige was talking about going to a conference for the next few days for work, so she’s probably at home, making sure she’s all packed.” Strictly speaking, it wasn’t a lie. A few days before, Paige had mentioned a conference in New Orleans that she was thinking of attending. It was, however, an evasion. Max couldn’t explain why he felt so reluctant to tell Zoey about his breakup – whether it was because he wanted to avoid her pity, or because he wanted to avoid the questions that would inevitably follow.

“Actually, I think that’s a great idea. Let’s grab some dinner,” he said, making a decision. He and Zoey had been friends for years, and it had been far too long since they’d really acted like it. He had said he wanted things to go back to the way things once were between them, and he’d meant it. At least, he wanted to return to the friendship without the fruitless pining that had resulted in nothing but a broken heart that still was far from healed. Maybe that had really been the cause for his breakup with Paige – perhaps it was less that he still carried some kind of torch for Zoey, and more that his obvious attempts to avoid the subject made it seem like he still had feelings for her.

He could only hope, because he didn’t want to face the prospect that he still loved her. Because if he still loved her, then the next time she pushed him away and chose someone else, it would shatter him all over again.

As they rode the elevator down to the ground level, the engaged in some good-natured bickering over where they should eat, until finally agreeing they would grab some takeout and head back to Zoey’s apartment for a long-overdue movie night. Looking back, Max wasn’t entirely sure who had first made the suggestion – let alone why he had agreed to it. Even trying to get things back to normal, this seemed a little reckless. Like poking at a scab, testing whether it had really healed, or if one wrong move would tear open the wound anew.

He tried not to think about it too much as they walked up the stairs to her apartment. Actually, he decided, it was a good thing he was doing this. It showed progress and proved he was over her. Avoiding one-on-one interactions with her would just prove that she still had some sort of claim on his heart. That he might fall in love with her all over again, if only given the chance. So, really, avoiding her was a sign of weakness and jumping back in to their movie night was a sign of strength that proved his heart was _just fine_. And if he mentally repeated that enough, maybe it would eventually stop sounding like a desperate justification, even to himself.

The important thing, of course, was that they were friends. That’s what mattered. And, regardless of anything else, he wanted to be Zoey’s friend. He wanted to go back to the point when the two of them had felt like friends. Like best friends. Because more than he regretted the broken heart she’d left in her wake, he missed having her in his life at all.

So it wasn’t that hard to smile as he followed her into her apartment, though he caught his step when he caught sight of the couch where he’d once briefly held all he’d ever wanted. Before…everything that came after. Consciously averting his eyes, he made his way into the kitchen and pulled takeout containers from the bags he carried, busying himself with the business of putting dinner together to avoid thinking about the past.

He opened a cabinet to grab some plates and found glasses there instead. It was enough to throw him; it had been a while since he’d been in Zoey’s apartment, but they’d spent enough time there together over the years that he knew where she kept her dishes.

“Oh, sorry. They’re on the other side,” she explained as she walked into the room. At his questioning look, she lifted her shoulders in a sheepish shrug and explained, “I was kinda feeling sorry for myself one night, and I guess I got it into my head that if I could change just one thing, it would make everything else feel different. Well, I can’t change my life, but I can change my kitchen organization.”

He considered her words as he moved to the cabinet she indicated and retrieved some plates from inside. Turning, he asked, “And did it? Make everything different, I mean.”

She nodded and threw him a wide smile. “Oh, absolutely. I mean, my life is still a complete mess, but at least I can’t find anything when I come into my kitchen anymore. So, really, the exterior reflects the interior.”

Max chuckled at her joke and teased her lightly, “Good thing you don’t spend too much time in here, then, huh?”

“Hey!” she protested in mock indignation! “I will have you know that, if you look inside my fridge, along with the usual culprits you will now _also_ find some leftover Kraft Mac and Cheese. Which, I am proud to say, I cooked myself.”

“Hmmm…” He hummed in the back of his throat as he crossed over to the appliance in question, opening the door to find what looked like neon orange soup in a container on the top shelf. Lifting it up for her to see, he asked, “This? I don’t know how to tell you this, but…I…I don’t know what this is.” He gave it a hard shake, looking for the macaroni in question and almost yelped when something green floated to the top. It had been a long time since he’d had Kraft Mac and Cheese – not since college, at least – but while he remembered the suspiciously orange color of the I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-real-food powder, he was pretty sure nothing green was supposed to be included.

Grabbing the container out of his hands, Zoey threw him a belligerent look. “Okay, so I might have messed up the recipe a little and it came out more soupy than intended. The point is, I’m learning! There is some serious personal growth going on over here, and you’re missing it.”

She started to put it back in the fridge, but he reached around her and took it out again. Grinning down at her, he explained, “Zo, you can’t eat that again. You’ll die.” She seemed ready to argue, until he explained, “Unless you threw some lettuce in to pretend you were eating a well-balanced meal, take it from me. There’s growth going on in _here_.”

She looked skeptical, so he held it out for her to see the floating green (and now white) chunks. When she wrinkled her nose and took a quick step back, he shook his head and tossed the container onto the counter. Before she could misconstrue his friendly teasing, he reached out and put his hands on her shoulders, throwing her an encouraging smile. “But I’m sure it was delicious before it became a science experiment.”

Zoey threw him a rueful look as she pulled away to empty the contents of the container into the trash before rinsing it with hot water. “Actually, it wasn’t. I’m not sure what I did wrong, but it tasted as bad as it looked. It’s mac and cheese, Max! How can I be so bad at cooking that I screw up mac and cheese?”

Leaning back against the counter next to her, he offered with an easy smile. “Well, I tell you what. Next time you want to make it, call me over. I’ll see what I can do to help.”

“Really?” she asked, turning to face him. “You would do that?” Her eyes were far more serious than the question warranted, but, then, he knew she wasn’t really asking about whether he would help her make overly processed food from a box. She was asking something deeper.

Would he really be there for her, if she called? Were they back on their way to being friends again?

Which is why he stopped joking, his voice becoming softer and more sincere as he straightened away from the counter and replied, “Yeah, of course.”

He watched as her gaze dropped to the floor, and the muscle in her jaw jumped as she swallowed heavily. “Listen…Max. There’s something I think you should…” Her voice trailed off, but he didn’t press her, since he could see she was struggling to find the words for whatever she wanted to say. Finally, she heaved a heavy sigh and said, “I-I mean…I hope this isn’t a problem. That you’re here tonight. I mean, that Paige doesn’t get the wrong idea.”

Now it was Max’s turn to swallow. He could wave away her concern, make another excuse that would really just be a lie of omission. Pretend that he and Paige were still together. Because what did it matter, really?

It mattered because he and Zoey were friends – or, at least, were trying to find their way back to being friends. And there had been enough denial and obfuscation between them as it was. If they was going to try to find a way to get their relationship back on track, he couldn’t start things off with a lie. “Oh.” Leaning back against the countertop again, clutching its edge with both hands, he strove for a nonchalance he didn’t feel as he explained, “You don’t have to worry about her getting the wrong idea. We – ah – we broke up.” 

“Oh, Max. I’m so sorry,” she murmured, and he shot her a quick look out of the corner of his eye.

“You don’t sound entirely surprised. Which either means you heard a heart song and knew this was coming, or it’s just _that obvious_ I’m not boyfriend material, and you still know me well enough to know I’d crash and burn eventually.” He’d meant it to sound like a self-deprecating joke, but there was an edge to bitterness and defeat in his words that belied his attempt at humor.

“No! That isn’t -” she began to protest, but he shook his head, cutting her off.

“I’m sorry. Forget I said that. Please. I’m just…feeling a little sorry for myself, I guess.” He considered trying for another joke. Or maybe reassuring her that he wasn’t going to mope around and ruin their movie night. After all, it was ridiculous that he was feeling sorry for himself at all. Maybe Paige had been the one to actually say the words, but he would have if she hadn’t. If anything, the breakup was completely mutual. So it really wasn’t the breakup itself but what it said about him that filled him with momentary self-pity. Not that he could admit as much to Zoey, all things considered.

But then she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest as she gave him a tight hug. “I really am sorry, Max,” she breathed, and he felt his bitterness and self-recrimination melt away.

“It’s all right,“ he admitted on a sigh, resting his chin on the top of her head. “The truth is, she was right to end things. And, if I’m being perfectly honest with myself, I can’t pretend I didn’t see it coming. Which is probably why I – oh, damn it,” he broke off as he remembered something.

“What?” she asked, lingering just a moment longer before pulling away.

“It’s nothing,” he replied, turning his attention to their dinner before it got completely cold. When she merely watched him in silence, he admitted, “It’s just…I made reservations for Paige and I to go to that new restaurant downtown on Friday night. You know, Blackout?”

“The one where you eat dinner totally in the dark?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I know, it sounds weird, but I thought it might be fun.”

“How’d you even get on the list?” she asked, grabbing her plate and leading him into the living room. “I read in the paper that they were booked for the next six months or something!”

“Yeah, I had to pull some _serious_ strings to get in.” He blew out a deep breath as he settled back on the couch. “I was kinda looking forward to trying it out, but it seems lame to go to a place like that alone. I’ll just have to call them tomorrow and cancel.”

A long silence stretched between them as they concentrated on their meal. Finally, keeping her attention firmly fixed on her plate, Zoey offered softly, “You know…um…if you _wanted_ , we could…we could go together.” Before he could reply, she blurted quickly, “I mean, not as a date of course. But, you know, as friends. I’ve been curious to know what it’s like, and it does seem like a shame to waste the opportunity.”

She had a point, but still, he hesitated. The thing was that Blackout was supposed to be the hottest new place for couples to go on date night. People swore that, although it seemed like the darkness would make things awkward, it was actually quite romantic. Did he really dare to go to a place like that with Zoey? Particularly since she’d be taking the place of his ex-girlfriend on a date he’d specifically booked for the supposed romantic ambiance?

He took too long to answer, because she flushed and mumbled, “You know what? It’s a dumb idea. Forget I said anything.”

“No, actually, I think we should go,” he replied, deciding quickly. Maybe he’d originally intended it to be a romantic date, but there was nothing saying it had to stay that way. And how romantic could eating in the dark be, anyway? He and Zoey were friends, and they used to check out new restaurants together all the time, without there ever being any confusion that their relationship was anything but platonic. There was no reason why this had to be any different. “The reservation is for seven. Do you – uh – do you want me to pick you up here, or…?”

To his mild relief, she shook her head, eliminating any need for him to worry whether that would make it feel too much like a date. “No, I can meet you there.” Throwing him a soft smile, she added, “Thanks, Max. It sounds like fun.”

Yeah, he decided, settling back on the couch as the movie began to play. It really did.


	6. Chapter 6

Zoey shifted her weight from one foot to the other, idly fingering the folds of her skirt as she looked up at the imposing façade of the new Blackout restaurant. It loomed in the middle of the block like a bat hunching in the shadows, waiting for its prey – all hard black lines and darkened windows. But it wasn’t the exterior she found intimidating. It was what awaited her inside.

She’d gotten a text a few minutes before that Max had arrived early and was waiting for her at her table, and she anticipated seeing him – or, more accurately, being in his company, since she wouldn’t really be _seeing_ him at all – with a combination of excitement and…dread? Fear? Anxiety?

The excitement was definitely there. She’d been looking forward to this all week, to the chance to be alone with him and maybe even get things back to the way they used to be. But she was also nervous, because getting things back where they _used to be_ wasn’t really what she wanted at all, if she was being honest. And now she was single and he was single, so she could theoretically take a chance and tell him what she wanted them to be, only what if he didn’t feel the same way? She’d be putting their tenuously rediscovered friendship on the line, risking everything. But if she never took the chance, she’d never know what they could have been.

Well, she wasn’t going to be get any answers standing out here on the sidewalk, so she took one last glance down at her dress to make sure everything appeared to be in order (not that he’d see her, which made her record-breaking _eleven_ wardrobe changes earlier that evening even more absurd than they normally would have been, but she told herself if she knew she looked good, it might give her that extra boost of confidence she sorely needed right now). Then she stepped through the front doors and greeted the hostess with a smile.

Before calling someone to take Zoey to her table, the hostess had her sign a waiver – something Zoey was pretty sure she’d never had to do before a simple meal before, but she’d do a lot more for a pseudo, we’re-just-doing-this-as-friends-honest quasi-“date” with Max. Then she was shown into a dark alcove, where she waited in pitch darkness for several moments before a waiter appeared at her side, softly assuring her he would guide her safely to her destination.

Zoey didn’t think she’d ever been in such complete and utter darkness before, and she almost balked at how _oppressive_ it all was, but the thought of Max waiting for her at their table gave her the courage she needed to take one tentative step after another, gently guided by a soft voice at her side, patiently directing her at every turn.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was probably only a three-minute walk (which would likely only have taken a matter of seconds with the lights on), the waiter directed her to stop.

“Zoey? Is that you?” Max’s voice carried to her through the darkness, the warm familiarity of it sending a shiver of longing down her spine. She heard some light rustling and strained her hearing to try to piece together what was happening. With her eyes completely ineffectual to her at the moment, her hearing was trying to pick up the extra slack.

“I’m here,” she replied with a shaky smile, reaching out to orient herself against the table as the waiter gently guided her into the booth. “I’m sitting down now,” she said as she slowly slid into her seat.

“Oh, okay, I – damn it,” Max’s voice was above her now, as he had apparently risen to his feet when he realized she was there – his mother’s lessons in etiquette more ingrained than practical at this point, since he could hardly help her to her seat when he couldn’t even find his own without assistance. A booth was easier to locate than a chair would have been, at least, but she heard a loud knock and felt the table jolt slightly, and she suspected he’d banged his leg into either his seat or the table at some point in his rising-and-sitting process.

It took some awkward fumbling, but finally they were both settled in across from each other, and she wondered what was supposed to happen next. If Max could have seen her, she knew he’d have recognized her anxiety in the way her hands rubbed back and forth against the edge of the table, though she wasn’t sure how much of that stemmed from his presence and how much from the utter darkness.

She let out a tiny shriek of surprise when she heard a loud pop and jumped, her knee slamming against the underside of the table. In an apologetic voice, the waiter explained, “I’m sorry, ma’am. I was just opening the champagne.” For the first time, she was grateful that Max couldn’t see her, since she was sure her cheeks were flushed bright red, but she felt him stretch out his leg until the side of his calf was pressed against hers, the silent reminder of his presence oddly comforting.

Zoey released a shaky breath, her entire body momentarily lost in the soft press of his leg against hers. But she was distracted when she heard a soft rustle and the waiter placed something in her arms. An exploratory feel indicated they were flowers, and a soft inhale revealed them to be roses. Six long-stem roses.

Then there was the soft gurgling sound of pouring liquid, and she heard the soft fizzy sound of carbonation rising to the surface and popping as the waiter placed her glass in front of her. Using the sound as an anchor, she slowly reached out and wrapped her hand around the fluted stem of the glass, relieved when she managed to do so without tipping it over.

The process was repeated a second time as the waiter poured for Max, and then he explained that someone would return quickly with the first course and moved away. “Well, this is…definitely an unusual experience,” she murmured in an undertone, throwing him a smile he couldn’t see but hoping he would sense it in her tone. Something about the heavy weight of the darkness made it hard to speak above a whisper, but she realized she wasn’t alone in that sense, since conversation in tables around them was equally as hushed. She couldn’t make out any words, even, just an occasional low whisper and the clinking of silverware against plates, glasses against tabletops, and – occasionally – what sounded like a ring or other item of jewelry clicking against one or the other. “Did I say unusual? I meant surreal.”

“Yeah,” he replied in an equally soft tone. She didn’t know if it was the darkness, his instinctive response to it, or her body’s innate response to him, but his voice sounded a little deeper than usual. A little richer. She found herself wondering if this is what his voice sounded like first thing in the morning, but she pushed the question away with a hard shake of her head. That wasn’t, strictly speaking, any of her business, and she couldn’t afford to forget that he’d offered to take her on this date as a _friend_ and nothing more.

“Sorry about the champagne,” he continued, sounding sheepish. “I didn’t realize…well, obviously, we can’t really order off a menu for this. When you make the reservation, they ask for the type of occasion and if any member of the party has food allergies, and I guess the chef basically prepares a meal for you that he think you’d like. I, uh, I told them it was a date when I made the reservation, of course, since I thought I’d be here with Paige. It didn’t occur to me to tell them things had…had changed.”

“It’s fine!” she replied brightly, carefully lifting the flute to her mouth to take a sip so she didn’t accidentally crack the glass against her teeth. “It’s good.”

“Yeah,” he said again, and she found herself focusing on the sound of his steady breaths, in and out. He swallowed, and she heard his glass hit the table.

It was weird, sitting so close to him but not being able to see him. “Max?” she asked, sliding her hand across the table towards him.

After a moment, as though he’d read her mind, he placed his palm on hers. “I’m here,” he murmured. His hand was steady and warm. And strong. She remembered how strong it could be, how easily he’d once pulled her onto his lap as he sang to her.

Turning her hand over, she stroked the curve of his hand where it met his wrist and frowned slightly when he fingers brushed against the heavier fabric of a jacket. Earlier that day, he’d been wearing his long-sleeved light sweater with a high collar. Not that she was intentionally tracking what he was wearing on a daily basis or anything, but she couldn’t seem to keep her gaze from unconsciously seeking him out every day, and the shirt he’d worn to work that morning had always been one of her favorites.

“What are you wearing?” she asked, plucking lightly at his jacket sleeve.

He chuckled, the sound washing over her. “Is this secretly a State Farm commercial?” he teased before mimicking the man in the ad saying, “Um…khakis.”

Zoey grinned. “No, it’s just…it’s weird, not being able to see you. I’m trying to picture you in my mind.”

A long silence followed her remark, during which she wished she knew what he was thinking. Or could even see his face, since she could so often read his thoughts there. Finally, he said in a light tone, “Oh, I…uh…I changed clothes after work. This is a suit. It seemed like that kind of place.” He ran his hand up her wrist, pressing his thumb against the rapid thread of her pulse pounding just beneath her soft skin. “You’re not wearing your pink sweater.”

She ducked her head. “Yeah, I changed into a dress.” Stealing his line, she added, “It seemed like that kind of place.”

He laughed, and she wished they didn’t have a table between them. She wanted to press her hands against him, to feel his laughter travel through her palms as it rumbled through his chest. But then she heard the waiter approach, and she had to stifle her sigh of regret as Max pulled his hand away so there was room for the plates.

“Tonight, we’ll be starting with an _amuse-bouche_ of figs wrapped in prosciutto, topped with Gorgonzola and toasted walnuts. This is just a small taste, to whet your appetite, but it’s one of Chef’s favorites. If you’ll give me just a moment, I’m going to pour a little aged balsamic over the top,” he paused, and she heard a faint sound as the drizzle hit the plate before he continued, “and I’m going to tuck your forks just to the left of your plates so you can find them. I’ll be back in just a couple of minutes with the soup course.”

“The soup course?” she murmured as he walked away. “How many courses are there going to be?”

“Um, six. I think,” he remarked, and she heard the soft clink of metal on china as he pulled his fork out from under the side of his plate. She grinned when she heard it hit the plate a few more times, as he tried to distinguish food from tableware. “Okay, this meal is going to be…a bit of a challenge,” he finally commented.

She snorted, retrieving her fork and going on a scavenging mission of her own as she groped around for anything that felt like a fig or some cheese. At this point, she’d settle for the walnut. “You’d think if they knew we were eating in the dark, they’d make the plates smaller at least,” she grumbled good-naturedly, so Max wouldn’t think she wasn’t enjoying herself.

Finally, she located the bite of food and scooped it onto her fork, testing the insubstantial weight of it as she lifted it into the air. “Oh, wow,” she breathed. “This is…really small.”

“Yeah, I think it’s supposed to just be a bite,” he agreed, and she heard him scoop his own bite onto his fork.

“Well here goes…oh, damn it,” she cursed under her breath as the bite of food slid off her fork and landed…heaven knew where. She didn’t hear it fall, so it could have been back onto the plate. Or onto the table. Or, for all she knew, into her lap. Heck, for all she would ever find it again, it might as well be on Mars.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “I just…I dropped it and now I can’t find it anywhere.” With a wry smile, she acknowledged, “This doesn’t bode well for the soup course, does it?”

He sounded amused as he replied, “When we walk out of here, no matter how much we’ve spilled on ourselves over the course of the meal, we don’t mention it. Deal?” She was about to agree, but then he asked, “Do you want a bite of mine?”

Zoey shook her head, not that he could see her. “Don’t be silly, Max. There was barely a bite big enough for a rabbit as it was. I’ll find mine…eventually.” As she spoke, she groped around in the dark for the fig, but so far to no avail.

“It’s no problem. I’d hate for you to miss the experience entirely. Hold on.” A few seconds later, he said, “It’s pretty good. Hold out your hand.”

She arched her eyebrows in surprise. “If you’re planning to drop your food into my hand, I’m totally going to wipe my hand off on your sleeve and you won’t be able to do anything about it because you can’t find me,” she joked.

His leg shifted against hers, and she could hear the laughter in his voice as he replied, “No, weirdo. I’m going to guide your hand to my fork so I don’t accidentally shove a piece of fig into your eye.”

Oh. That made a lot more sense. She reached across the table to him, pausing when her hand brushed against his. Linking his fingers in hers, he lifted her hand slowly and guided it to his fork. She knew he had probably intended to pass the piece of silverware over to her to navigate on her own, but, using the darkness as an excuse, she wrapped her hand around his and guided his hand forward to gingerly grip the bite between her teeth.

Her thumb idly slid toward his palm as she chewed, stroking it gently as she held his hand far longer than necessary. “It is good,” she agreed with his earlier assessment, gradually releasing his hand. She wished she could have found an excuse to hold onto it for longer.

Across the table, she heard him clear his throat as he leaned back. “Uh…yeah. It was.”

A heavy silence fell between them as they both quietly sipped their champagne, and Zoey wondered if Max wished he could see her right now as much as she wished she could see him. Before she could find a way to gently ask the question, the waiter returned.

She felt a flurry of movement pass in front of her as he retrieved their appetizer plates and forks, replacing them swiftly with bowls containing their next course, which he described as “melon confit soup with silken tofu and toasted almonds.” She also heard him place a basket of bread on the table between them before he once again disappeared (although that word implied he’d at some point _appeared_ , and that was grossly overstating the case), and Zoey was once again left to fumble around in the dark for her spoon.

“Do you want some bread?” Max asked, and she heard him slap the tabletop in a quest for the carbs in question. “Hold on, I think I’ve found it. Let me get you a piece.”

She expected him to slide it across the table, so she was surprised when she leaned forward to give the soup a dubious sniff (having slight doubts about the “melon,” grave doubts about the “tofu,” and not having the first clue what “confit” was at all) and nearly took herself out against his hand. She’d never headbutted a roll before and jerked back with a slight sound of surprise when it slammed against her nose.

“Oh, god, are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I? I was just -”

“No, it’s okay!” she reassured him quickly, rubbing her nose to free any bread crumbs that had snuck up there during the unexpected collision. “I was just surprised.”

He sighed heavily. “Are you sure you want to keep doing this? I have a feeling things are only going to get worse from here. I don’t know what we’ll do if our entrée requires the use of a knife. Probably cut our own fingers off. You know, if you want, we can just go and -”

She shook her head, remembered he couldn’t see her, and said, “No, don’t be silly. This may be the most _unusual_ meal we’ve ever had together, but there’s no question it’ll be a memorable one.” Truth be told, she was having a fantastic time – though that had less to do with the unique culinary experience than with the dinner companion. Which gave her an idea. “Oh, I know. Scoot over.”

“Scoot – what?” he asked as she gripped the side of the table and used it as a guide as she moved around to his side, sliding into the booth next to him. It was a little tight, but they both fit reasonably well. And now she wouldn’t have to work so hard to find him in the darkness.

“See? Isn’t this better?” she asked, blindly feeling around for her soup bowl and glass of champagne, wishing she’d thought to bring them along with her. She felt Max shift beside her as he helped her locate both, carefully pulling them in front of her. “At least we can find each other now.” His arm was warm against hers, even through the fabric of his jacket, and she felt him shift in his seat. But he didn’t say anything right away, which filled her with a sudden burst of self-doubt. “Unless…I can go back to my side if you want. I don’t mean to crowd you.”

She felt his hand seek out hers under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “No,” he murmured, his mouth so close to her ear that she felt a few strands of hair brush against the side of her neck, making her shiver. “I don’t mind. I mean, this is better.”

Over the next few courses, though she tried to eat her food, she could barely taste it as he other senses focused completely on Max. She could hear the steady pattern of his breathing, feel the way he moved against her with every bite. Her thigh was flush against his, his presence warm and inviting. And distracting, she realized, as she reached for her fork to take a stab at locating the last bite of her entrée and was so focused on Max that she accidentally hit the handle with the side of her palm and sent it – again – who knew where.

“Oh, come on,” she groaned, running her hands along the table on either side of her plate before dropping to her lap. She still couldn’t find her fork, so she continued to feel around, too distracted by her purpose to think of the consequences. “It’s gotta be here somewhere.”

“Uh…Zoey…? Your – your hand,” she heard Max groan suddenly, the words sounding like they were being forced out through gritted teeth.

“What? I’m just looking for -” she began to explain before realizing her right hand had strayed a little further to the side than she’d originally intended. She could feel the warmth of his stomach pressing against his forearm, and she was about to apologize for (she assumed) putting her hand on his thigh when she curled her fingers in a slight, exploratory gesture and felt the hard, jagged teeth of a zipper beneath her touch. And beneath that…

“Sorry! I’m so sorry!” she blurted, yanking her hand away with such force that she smacked it against the underside of the table with a loud crack. She let out a cry of distress, cradling her traitorous, aching hand in her lap before it could get any other ideas.

She felt Max put his hand on her shoulder, trailing his fingers lightly down her arm to her elbow. There, he hesitated, pressing his fingers into the soft curve for a moment before sliding them down to her wrist. “Are you okay?” he asked, running his fingers over the fragile bones in her hands, looking for injury. “That sounded like it hurt.”

“No, I’m fine,” she gulped, though tears came to her eyes at his gentleness. “I just…I can’t believe I just did that. Max, I wasn’t trying to -”

“I know,” he interjected, though she noticed his breathing was a bit more ragged than it was a moment ago. Which was when she realized that it had progressively gotten more labored over the course of the meal, and the bulge she had felt under her hand a moment ago had suggested she was as affected by her presence as she was by him. But still his voice remained low and reassuring as he said, “It’s pitch black in here. I know it was an accident. It’s okay. I just want to make sure you didn’t break your hand a minute ago.”

“No, I’m fine,” she said with a pitiful little sniffle, but she grabbed her hand in his, wishing she never had to let go. Maybe now, in the darkness, when they couldn’t see each other and so she couldn’t lose her nerve by whatever she saw on his face, maybe now was the time to tell him how she felt about him. Pressing the back of his hand against her cheek, she flicked her tongue against her lower lip and breathed, “Max, there’s something I need to tell you. I -”

“And now, for our dessert course, we have two options for you this evening. For the lady, we have chocolate pudding with lavender sorbet. For the gentleman, the chef has prepared chocolate mousse cake with blowtorched berries, whipped cream, roast peach ice cream, and honeycomb,” the waiter explained, clearing away their presumably mostly empty (though in the darkness, it wasn’t like she could know for sure) plates.

Zoey sighed as she waited for the flurry of activity to cease so she could tell Max how she felt about him, but in the time it took for the two of them to be alone again together, she lost her nerve. As she reached for her spoon, however, he asked, “I’m sorry, Zo. Were you saying something?”

“Me? Oh. No,” she lied. “I mean, I forgot.” Eager to change the subject, she took a bite of dessert and hummed with pleasure. “This is really good, though. Do you want to try some?”

“Sure,” he began, but, in her eagerness to distract him from her near-confession, she didn’t wait. Scooping up a spoonful of sorbet (she’d been aiming for the sorbet, at least), she veered to bring it to his mouth. Her arm hit his shoulder, and something bumped against the spoon, and then she heard Max’s muffled snort of surprised laughter.

“Oh, sorry! I’m sorry! Did I miss?” she asked, reaching for him in the dark.

Laughing, he replied, “No, it was a pretty direct bullseye. I’ve never had ice cream in my ear before. It’s not _exactly_ how I planned to end this evening, but I did promise a new experience for both of us, so I think we can safely say I’ve delivered.”

“It’s sorbet,” she corrected him with a sheepish grin, leaning away so he could lift his napkin to the offended ear in question. She didn’t know where to put her arm without risking a further mess, however, so she just left it hanging there until things settled down. A moment later, however, she felt something knock against her hand and Max’s loud splutter of astonishment. “I…I just did it again, didn’t I?” she asked meekly.

“No,” he said, his whole torso heaving as he tried to contain his laughter. “This time you got me in the nose.”

“You know what? Screw the sorbet. It wasn’t that good anyway,” she blurted, dropping her spoon to the table. She didn’t know where it landed, but at this point, she didn’t care.

Nudging her gently with his shoulder, he asked, “Well, do you want to try some of my ice cream? What did he say it was – roast peach with honeycomb?” She didn’t answer right away, so he leaned in and tried to tempt her by saying, “I’m sure it’s good.”

She threw him a morose frown he’d never see. “Are you sure you want to risk it? I’m never going to find my spoon, and at the rate we’re going, it’ll probably end up in my eye.”

“Maybe,” he agreed. “But I’m really hoping to convince you to let me steal a bite of your pudding, and bribery seems like the most effective way to do it. But don’t worry. I have an idea.” She felt him turn in the cramped booth, placing his hand on her upper arm. His palm skated up to her shoulder, and then he traced a line with his fingers along her jaw. Cupping her jaw in his palm, he traced this thumb across her lower lip. “There you are,” he whispered. “Now I just have to…”

“Max,” she breathed. All evening, her senses had been focused on him. The sound of his voice, the rhythm of his breathing, the smell of his aftershave, and the feel of his breath against her cheek when he turned to say something to her. And now his thumb on her lower lip was torture, a reminder of what she wanted there instead.

He froze, and she reached for him gingerly, resting her hand against his chest. His heart was racing, its rhythm hard and fast against her palm, and she curled her fingers around his jacket lapel to pull him in.

His face was so close to hers, she could feel his breath, soft against her mouth, and a soft trembling in his hand where it cupped her face. “Zoey?” he asked in an equally soft tone, but he didn’t pull away. So she leaned in, sliding her hand around his neck as she guided his mouth to hers.

The first press of his lips was soft, tentative. Uncertain. She swept her tongue along his lower lip and swallowed his moan as his mouth parted under hers. He tasted like chocolate mousse and champagne, and the touch of her tongue against his seemed to send him over some sort of edge, because he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her toward him, deepening the kiss.

He kissed her like he was a man dying in the desert, and she was the last promise of water. He kissed her like he wanted to devour her, his tongue delving into her mouth and his teeth scraping against her lower lip. Her chest was pressed against his, so she felt more than heard his groan of regret before he pulled out of her arms, releasing her. “No. Wait. I’m sorry. I-I can’t do this again.” His breathing was ragged, but she felt him turn from her, and she felt a stab of terror that he was slipping through her fingers again. That after this kiss, he would push her away, shut her out. As she had once done to him. “I _can’t_. I shouldn’t have brought you here. I should have known I -”

“No, it’s fine!” she interjected, grabbing the sleeve of his jacket. “It’s just…it’s just the champagne! It’s just the champagne and the…and the darkness. We – _I_ – just went a little out of my head, but it’s _fine_. Right? Nothing…nothing has to change. Okay?” Biting her lower lip, she pleaded with him. “Please. I don’t…I don’t want to lose you again.”

She could swear she could feel his uncertainty in the way he hesitated, not reaching for her but not pulling further away, either. Finally, he sighed. “You’re not losing me, Zo. I’m not going anywhere. I just…” he lapsed into silence, and she waited as patiently as she could for him to continue. Finally, she felt him move as he shook his head. “You know, this has been a long, strange evening with too much champagne, like you said. We should probably get out of here.” Reaching for her hand under the table, he linked his fingers in hers – not a promise, but a reassurance, at least. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”


	7. Chapter 7

Silence stretched between them, tense and awkward, as Max drove Zoey back to her place, and neither of them seemed to know how to break it until they were standing outside her apartment. “Do you, uh, do you want to come in? It’s still early. We could do a movie night.”

He hesitated, almost saying yes until he remembered the way he had kissed her, not long before. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he replied reluctantly.

“Please?” she asked, her voice soft. “I just…I need things to be okay between us.”

He frowned, looking off to the side as he warred an internal debate. He knew he should be strong and walk away, but one look into her wide blue eyes and he would crumble. Though he found himself crumbling anyway as he said, “Okay. Just for a while.”

Zoey flashed him a quick smile as she her apartment door and ushered him inside, kicking off her shoes as soon as possible. But his mood was reserved as he moved toward the couch, and he shook his head when she asked if he wanted to pick the movie. In all honesty, he wasn’t really sure what he was doing here, but he had no doubt it was a bad idea. Hadn’t he just seen how easy it was to lose his head when he was around her? But that was really the problem, wasn’t it? While his head might know better, his heart for her with her, and – as usual, when it came to Zoey Clarke – his heart won out.

Seemingly oblivious to his dilemma, Zoey skimmed the on-demand options, finally settling on _Godzilla: King of the Monsters_ , promising him he’d either love it or love to narrate how much he hated it as she sat back on the couch with a sigh.

Max watched out of the corner of his eye as she tucked her feet under her, her body curled as though she was trying to preserve as much space between them as possible, and it broke his heart. There was a time she would have flung her legs across his lap without a thought, but their relationship was no longer quite that comfortable – or that easy. Instead, she kept to the far side of the couch, idly rubbing the ball of her foot as she watched the film.

He attempted to do the same, though he was constantly distracted by her, comforted by her presence even as he wished he could bridge the distance between them. Even though he knew doing so would be disastrous to his heart. And, of course, he couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened at dinner. The way her lips had felt, pressed against his.

Looking back now, he couldn’t say who had initiated the kiss; he only knew he had given in to the temptation to deepen the embrace, momentarily losing himself in the pleasure of it. He’d wanted Zoey for so long, and having her in his arms once more was more intoxicating than any champagne…until he remembered how it had ended for him before. How it would inevitably end for him again. That alone had given him the strength to pull away.

He was lost in thought, so he didn’t notice when Zoey shifted on the couch, her feet sliding closer to him until her toes dipped under the curve of his leg. Without stopping to think of the wisdom of his actions, he slid his hand under her calf, lifting it over his lap before running his hands along the curve of her feet. He realized perhaps a second too late the folly of his actions, but when she sighed and he felt the muscles in her foot relax under his hands, it seemed churlish not to continue. After all, her sore feet were more or less his doing, since he’d invited her out to that awful restaurant. The least he could do was try to make it better, he reassured himself, even as a voice in his mind mocked him for embracing any excuse to touch her.

It was just a foot rub. And she was just Zoey. How dangerous could it be?

A short while later, he discovered the answer when he heard her soft gasp and looked down to see that his hands had drifted up her leg to her calf, which he was caressing in slow, soothing strokes. His hands stilled, but he couldn’t seem to pull them away, marveling at the softness of her skin. Hating himself a little for wanting her, even when he knew he shouldn’t.

She let out a soft breath, and he could swear he heard his name on her lips. Neither of them moved as she asked, “Can we talk about what happened tonight?”

Her words broke whatever spell held him in its thrall, and he yanked his hands away, jumping to his feet. He shouldn’t be here. He should never have asked her to dinner, and he certainly shouldn’t have agreed to join her for a movie after their kiss. Until he was sure he could control himself, he needed to keep his distance. “It’s late. I should go,” he said, as though he hadn’t heard her question. Zoey wasn’t willing to let him get away with that, it seemed, because as he headed toward the door, she darted around him, pressing her back against it. “Zoey…” he began, falling silent when he didn’t know what to say next.

“No. I’m not letting you leave here until we’ve talked. We kissed, Max, and that means something. Even if you don’t want to admit it.”

“I’m sorry. It was a mistake.”

“Don’t say that,” she blurted, before he could continue. “Please.” Stepping forward, she pressed her hands against his chest. “It wasn’t a mistake to me.”

He whispered something. He thought maybe it was her name, but he didn’t really register it as he stared into her eyes. She was so beautiful, and he ached to hold her close every bit as fiercely as he longed to push her away. This was a mistake, and he had to leave before he made things worse.

He reached for her, he swore with the intention to move her aside so he could leave, but then his hands were on her waist, and she was pressed up against him. And, against his better judgment, he felt himself lean in for a kiss. Her mouth parted beneath his, and he wrapped his arms around her, crushing her against him as he moved forward to brace her back against the door. It was everything he longed for and everything he feared, all at the same time, and he couldn’t pull away even though he knew he should.

Zoey’s arms were around his neck, and his name was a prayer on her lips as he trailed kisses along her jaw to her neck.

 _Please let me have this. Please,_ he begged the voice of reason in his mind, which was trying to remind him of all the reasons he should stop.

“I love you,” she murmured, and he froze, squeezing his eye shut as he fought to catch his breath. Those three words stopped him when nothing else could, and he straightened, pulling out of her arms. When he finally found the strength to open his eyes again, she looked confused.

“I’m sorry. I can’t – I shouldn’t have – I can’t do this,” he mumbled. I should go.

Her beautiful blue eyes looked bruised and sad. And hurt, as she murmured, “You don’t believe me.”

“No, that’s not – I believe you.” That it was actually true, in a way, only made it worse somehow. Something he didn’t know how to make her understand.

But of course she would ask. “Then why -?”

Max was angry at himself for not having left earlier, for having given into temptation. He should never have let things get this far. Paige’s words echoed in the back of his mind. _“_ _I don’t want to be with someone who wants to love me. I want someone who just…loves me. Because they can’t help themselves.”_

He sucked in a shaky breath and chastised himself once again for not leaving when he could. How could he explain the realization that had hit him one evening, not long before? There had been no denying the truth of it, so crystal-clear it burned, so he’d done the only thing he could in that moment. He’d kissed her forehead and wished her and Simon well and made the decision that loving her meant letting her go.

To say the words now would only make things worse. She would either meet them with angry denial – which he couldn’t bring himself to believe and which would only hurt him more to fight – or reluctant acknowledgement, tinged perhaps with guilt (for her sake) and pity (for his). “It’s not enough,” he offered simply, tearing his eyes away from her as he told her what truth he could. “I just want to be your friend. Nothing more,” he said. It should have been the truth, but he knew she would only hear the lie. Keeping his head bowed, he reached for the knob, wanting nothing more than to escape. But before he could, he said in a soft voice, “I’m sorry.”

* * *

The next day, Zoey let out a tiny shriek as she raced down the sidewalk, her hands curled over her head as the skies opened up overhead. She knew she should have brought an umbrella with her, but she’d thought she could beat the rain. At least the cold droplets distracted her from thinking about Max, continually obsessing over the events of the night before. The warmth of his body, the press of his lips against hers.

His cryptic words as he practically fled from her apartment, his eyes betraying his feelings even as he swore he wanted to remain friends. When she’d asked him for answers, she could have sworn he wanted to say something more, but his words just confused her even more.

It was that look in his eyes, which hinted so much and yet revealed nothing, that brought her to her mother’s house this afternoon. She’d tried so hard to keep her feelings and internal conflict to herself, not wanting to burden her mother when she was dealing with so much as it was. But she was confused, and her heart was aching, and she needed someone to talk to. Normally, she’d go to Mo, but Mo was still off with Eddie and the few messages of advice she’d received from their weekly communications had been more graphic than specifically helpful.

He had been correct that more or less lunging for Max’s zipper would give her a clear answer about something, one way or another. She just wasn’t sure it had told her what she really wanted to know.

So she needed her mom. She hadn’t even thought to call ahead of time to let her know she was on her way. That wasn’t really a problem; it was hardly the first time she’d decided to just swing by unannounced. But this time, as she pushed open the front door and stepped inside, her feet skidding slightly on the wood floor, she heard voices in the kitchen and realized her mother wasn’t alone.

At first, she thought her mom was talking to David, so she wasn’t sure what impulse washed over her, cautioning her to remain quiet as she strode gingerly down the hall. As she moved closer, she recognized the second voice as it carried into the hall. Max. Her mom was with Max. And he wasn’t talking to her. He was singing.

 _“Some day, when I’m awfully low, when the world is cold, I will feel a glow just thinking of you. And the way you look tonight.”_ Zoey closed her eyes as a wave of memory swept over her, of her father singing that song to himself as he moved about the house doing various chores. The way he’d inevitably end by grabbing Maggie by the hand and twirling her around, pulling her into his arms for a kiss.

Max continued to sing, _“With each word your tenderness grows, tearing my fear apart. And that laugh that wrinkles your nose touches my foolish heart.”_ She caught her breath and risked a quick peek into the kitchen, watching as Max spun Maggie around until she laughed with joy – the first real laugh Zoey had heard from her mom in some time.

She watched as Max danced, mostly goofing around. But whenever Maggie’s smile started to fall, he would do something else to bring that smile back to her face, and Zoey realized once again just how thoughtful he was. How much he genuinely cared about the people around him. _“Lovely. Never, ever change. Keep that breathless charm. Won’t you please arrange it, cause I love you, just the way you look tonight.”_

Catching her breath, Zoey pressed her back against the wall in an effort not to be seen. She wasn’t exactly well-hidden; they’d see her in they glanced into the hall. But they were distracted, and her mom seemed like she was really happy at the moment, so Zoey didn’t want to interrupt. She also didn’t know what to say to Max when she spoke to him next, and she dreaded the thought of how awkward things might be.

Her mom was laughing as the song ended and he spun her one more time. “Thank you for that, Max,” she said warmly as she leaned against the counter and took a moment to catch her breath. “I haven’t danced to that song in…a very long time.”

“Any time,” he said, and Zoey had to close her eyes again at the warmth in his tone. “Do you want to go sit down?”

She almost panicked at the thought they’d step into the hall and see her, until her mom said lightly, “Actually, what I really want is for you to tell me what’s going on between you and my daughter.” Once the words sunk in, however, she fought back the urge to panic all over again.

He made a soft sound of surprise. “You know, Zoey was right about you. You are _scarily_ good at those sneak attacks. Are you sure you don’t want to dance again? I could sing something else. _That’s Life_ or _You Make Me Feel So Young_ or…”

Her mom chuckled. “You’re a fine singer, and I did enjoy the dance. But I’d rather you told me the truth. Things have been weird between the two of you for a long time, and don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’re always stopping by when she’s not around.” The words caught Zoey’s attention. He was always stopping by? He was _always_ stopping by? Just how often had he been coming to see Maggie, anyway, and why had nobody ever told her about it? There was a moment’s pause, and then her mom said in a voice Zoey had to strain to hear, “And when you showed up here, you looked so sad. It breaks my heart to see you like that.”

She heard him sigh, followed by the steady rhythm of fingers tapping against the countertop. “Things with Zoey are…they’re fine!” A heavy silence fell between them, and then she heard his huff of frustration. “Okay, maybe they’re not. But I’m not – I don’t want you to be disappointed when you hear the truth.”

“In Zoey?” she asked, seemingly unconcerned. “I’m her mother. I know she’s not perfect, but there is nothing that she could ever do that would disappoint me.”

“Not in Zoey. In me,” he corrected her, his voice gentle and forlorn.

But her mom was having none of that, either. “Maxwell Richman, you should know me better than that! You’re practically a member of this family! Whatever’s going on with you two, I could never be disappointed in either of you!”

“The thing is…with Zoey and me…I just don’t think it’s meant to be.” Zoey heard him sigh and dared a quick glance into the kitchen to see him leaning back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest and head bowed. “I love her. I’m in love with her. As much as I’ve spent the last couple of months trying to get past that, if my relationship with Paige showed me anything, it’s that I can’t. I will probably love her for the rest of my life. But Zoey…”

“She loves you too. I know you don’t see it, but I do,” Maggie said, her voice kind.

“I do know that,” he admitted. “But I think…” He spoke slowly, like each word was being ripped out of him. “After everything that happened…with Mitch and…and with Simon…I realized something. I realized that I’m always going to love Zoey more than she loves me.”

There was a horrible, deafening silence after his admission, during which Zoey felt a pain in her chest, like her heart was breaking. That was really what Max thought? She shifted her weight forward, ready to charge into the kitchen to tell him he was wrong, but she realized she couldn’t move. Because while she was sure now he was wrong about what he said, she could understand why he would think it. It had taken her so long to realize how she felt about him, and then she’d spent the next couple of months pushing him away. Could she really pretend to be surprised that he doubted the depth of her love for him when she had been oblivious to it herself for so long?

“Oh, Max, I don’t think that’s true.”

She heard his voice grow closer and pressed herself harder against the wall, desperate not to be seen. “It is, though. And I know. I _know_ how terrible that sounds, that I even care about that. I can’t picture the rest of my life without her in it, and I haven’t been able to for a long, long time. But she…”

Zoey caught her breath as she listened, straining to hear every word. She knew she shouldn’t eavesdrop, but she couldn’t help herself. After a moment, he continued heavily, “I used to think it was okay, you know? I could wait for her. I could love enough for the both of us, and maybe, in time…but then I realized…” His voice trailed off, and he sighed. “I know I’m being selfish, and maybe that isn’t fair. But I don’t know how you can love someone and not want them to feel the same way. I’m just afraid I won’t be able to stop hoping for more, and she’ll come to resent me one day because of it. I couldn’t stand that. So, you know…I just need to figure out how to stop loving her as much as I do, and once I figure that out, everything will be fine.”

“And how’s that going?” Maggie asked, sounding both sympathetic and skeptical.

His laugh was a little strained, and he replied in a wry tone, “Well, Paige just dumped me because she didn’t want to wait forever for me to move on. And don’t get me wrong, I don’t blame her. But basically, it’s going great, thanks for asking.”

“Well,” her mother began firmly. “Whatever happens, I want you to know that you’ll always be welcome here.”

“You’re only saying that because you want another dance,” he joked, and Zoey could imagine the warm smile on his face as he did so.

Her mother chuckled. “That’s not the _only_ reason!”

Zoey darted swiftly down the hall to the front door, silently pulling it open before slamming it loudly. “Hey, mom!” she called loudly as she practically stomped down the hallway, as though there was any chance her arrival had been missed. “Oh, hey, Max!” she greeted him with a forced smile, dragging out the greeting a little too long. “I didn’t know you were here!”

He was giving her a strange look, but she didn’t blame him since she was trying to act casual and failing miserably. “Uh, hey, Zoey,” he greeted her in return, his smile uncertain. “I was just in the neighborhood and stopped by to say hi to your mom. I was, um, I was just on my way out, actually.”

“You don’t have to leave!” her mom protested quickly.

“I don’t want to interrupt -” he began, but Zoey reached out and grabbed his hand.

“You aren’t interrupting anything. Really. Please stay,” she pleaded in an undertone. She could see the moment she swayed him, because he threw her a lopsided smile, giving her hand a quick squeeze before gently pulling away. Trying to hide her hurt at his withdrawal, she tilted her head to the side and asked, “So, how often do you just find yourself in the neighborhood?”

“Oh, just once or twice,” he began.

Her mother grabbed Zoey for a quick hug, shaking her head. “He’s just being modest. Max has stopped by to see me two or three times a week ever since we lost your father. It’s very sweet of him, even though I keep trying to tell him he doesn’t have to worry about me.”

Zoey felt her jaw drop as she looked up at Max in amazement. _Two or three times a week?_ “How did I not know that?”

She could see the blush stain his cheeks as he lifted his shoulders in an awkward shrug. “It’s no big deal. Really, I just keep dropping by to see if I can talk your mom into cooking me a decent meal. I’m not above a little bribery when necessary. It’s laziness, really.”

“Which is why you turn me down every time I offer?” Maggie asked him with a smile.

“I said I was trying my hand at bribery. I never said I was any good at it,” he joked weakly.

“Well, you’re not getting away this time. You and Zoey are staying for dinner, and that’s final.”

His gaze darting to Zoey, Max opened his eyes to argue until Maggie threw him a stern glare and he gave her a meek look of assent. “Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled in agreement.

Zoey turned away so he wouldn’t see her relief, though Maggie didn’t even try to hide her self-satisfied smile as she shooed them out of the kitchen. “All right, I need you both out of my hair if I’m going to make dinner. Go find something to do while I get everything started.”

She would have protested, but she was too busy fighting back the urge to kiss her mother for having so neatly maneuvered him to stay. Not only that, but now she would have at least a half hour alone in his company. Though she had no doubt things would still be tense and awkward between them, she saw it as a blessing in disguise because she’d had a realization of her own. Even with his doubts, he still loved her. And maybe she’d given him every reason to question the depth of her love, but as long as he still loved her, there was still hope. She could find a way to convince him how much he meant to her. She just had to figure out how.


	8. Chapter 8

As it turned out, figuring out _how_ to convince Max of the depth of her love was harder than she’d thought. Telling someone you love them is comparatively easy. Showing them _how much_ you love them? Wasn’t nearly as easy as it sounded. Several days had passed since the dinner the two had shared at her mom’s, and she was no closer to finding the answer.

She was, however, quickly unraveling. Every day at work was a combination of bliss and torture. Every time Max walked into the room, every time he leaned in close to talk to her about the project, she could feel her heart start to race and it was all she could do not to pull him in for a kiss. Early that day, he’d leaned over her to ask her about a section of code, and she could have sworn she’d forgotten how to breathe.

But of course, while she felt like she was coming apart at the seams, Max seemed as calm and collected as ever. If he was struggling with his decision to _just be friends_ , she’d never know it to look at him. He certainly didn’t seem like his heart pounded at the sight of her. In fact, she might have thought his feelings for her had never gone beyond those one might expect towards a colleague and a friend if she hadn’t realized just how much he went out of his way to not touch her. At first, she’d thought it was all in her head, but when she finally decided to test her theory by asking if he would pass her a pen and “accidentally” grazed the edge of his finger with her own, she actually saw him jerk his hand away.

The only other indication of his true feelings was the way she caught him looking at her sometimes, out of the corner of her eye. She could swear in those moments, when he thought she wasn’t looking, there was an expression of longing mixed with resignation on his face. Of course, she couldn’t be sure she wasn’t imagining things, and if she turned to look at him, he’d turn away just as quickly.

It was a frustrating dance back and forth, one that wasn’t getting them anywhere. So one evening, irritated by her own company and inability to get out of her own head, she changed back out of her pajamas and headed to the closest bar. Sure, she wasn’t likely to find the answer in the bottom of a shot glass, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. She was just going to have to be careful not to drink so much that she was tempted to drunk dial Max so she could pour her heart out. Things had been weird enough between them, ever since their lights-out non-date. She didn’t need to make it worse.

The bar was crowded when she stepped inside, and she heard a group of girls who had clearly already had at least one too many belt the words to “I Will Survive” to the accompaniment of the karaoke machine. She winced when one went for a note and missed by about a half an octave, but it didn’t deter her from her purpose. She was here for the alcohol. Not the entertainment.

She was almost to the front of the crowd in front of the bar when she caught sight of a man a few feet in front of her and felt the butterflies in her stomach give an experimental stretch of their wings when she realized the back of his head reminded her of Max. Internally groaning, she tried to get herself under control. It was ridiculous to get so worked up over someone just because his height and hair reminded her of him.

Then he turned, and the butterflies in her stomach launch into flight in such a whirl of activity that it almost made her lightheaded. Her heart began to hammer, and her mouth went dry. The man in front of her didn’t just remind her of Max. It was Max.

He caught sight of her and she saw the smile lift the corners of his mouth. She shoved through the crowd to make it to his side at the bar, and he shifted to shield her with his body, providing some small protection from the swarm of people around them while she ordered a drink. “Hey,” he greeted her warmly, bracing one hand on the bar by her side. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight. Did Tobin call you?” The hard edges in his words were just a little slurred, suggesting the beer in his hand wasn’t his first.

“Tobin?” she repeated with a slight shake of her head. “No, why would he?”

“Really? Oh.” He seemed confused by her response, his gaze lifting over her head to scan the crowd.

“is everything okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah, of course. I just thought – uh – nothing.”

But even as he reassured her, Tobin came pushing through the crowd. “Max! Max!” he yelled, grinning broadly. “You’re up!”

“Up?” she asked, even more baffled when she saw Leif and Simon walk up behind Tobin. Simon threw her a slightly guilty look, but she barely noticed. She was too distracted by the realization that the four of them were hanging out after work. Not that it was impossible that they would do so, but it just wasn’t something she’d ever imagined Max doing.

If she was being totally honest, she wasn’t sure she shouldn’t be a little hurt that Max hadn’t invited her to join them. It seemed she was the only member of the team not invited along, and while she knew the “boys’ club” mentality was prevalent at work, she’d never thought Max would buy into it.

While she turned her head to hide her feelings, she saw Max pull a face out of the corner of her eye. “Again? I don’t know…” he began, but Tobin wasn’t having any of it. He grabbed Max’s arm, pulling him toward the stage, but she couldn’t hear what he said over the chatter of the crowd.

Meanwhile, Simon shifted closer to her. “Leif wanted to take Max out tonight. He said something about payback for helping him get over his last breakup. They might have had a few too many already.” She nodded, noticing that Simon sounded perfectly sober as she grabbed the drink the bartender placed in front of her and took a big sip. Turning, she stretched on her toes to watch Max climb up onto the stage. “You know why he didn’t invite you along,” Simon said softly, and she shot him a quick look over her shoulder. “Everyone knows the person he needs to get over isn’t Paige.”

At his words, her breath caught in her throat, and she pulled her attention back to Max. Over the crowd, their eyes met briefly, and then he grabbed the microphone and sighed into it. As the music from the karaoke machine began to blare over the speakers, he threw himself into his performance in a way that only the somewhat inebriated could do – with enough presence of mind to pronounce the words with only a slight slur, but with enough intoxication that they weren’t too embarrassed to put on a show.

_“We both lie silently still in the dead of the night. Although we both lie close together, we feel miles apart inside. Was it something I said, or something I did? Did my words not come out right? Though I tried not to hurt you, though I tried, but I guess that’s why they say every rose has its thorn. Just like every night has its dawn. Just like every cowboy sings a sad, sad song. Every rose has its thorn. Yeah it does.”_

When she heard Max start to sing, Zoey gasped and clutched the bar in front of her hard enough for her knuckles to go white. He couldn’t possibly know it, but this wasn’t the first time she’d heard him sing this song to her. But she’d never told him about that night. It had to be a coincidence. He probably picked the song well before she arrived. But, still, of all the songs he could have chosen, why this one?

Her heart hammered in her chest, her memories of the past colliding with the It present, as Max continued to sing. _“I listen to our favorite song playing on the radio, hear the DJ say love’s a game of easy come and easy go. But I wonder does he know, has he ever felt like this? And I know that you’d be here right now if I could have let you know somehow.”_

He was standing on the stage as he sang the chorus, the trio of drunk girls in front of the stage hooting enthusiastically. In response to their catcalls, he grinned and danced around, giving them the show they demanded – as much as he could while keeping his clothes on, at least. But Zoey watched it all through a haze. She couldn’t stop thinking of the last time he sang this song to her, standing on the street, his hands shoved in his pockets before turning and walking away. It hadn’t been the last heartsong she’d heard him sing, before the end. Even then, she’d tried to tell herself she wasn’t too late. But looking back, she’d been unable to continue denying the truth. This heartsong had been when she lost him. It had been the turning point, the night he decided that, as much as he loved her, she would never love him as much in return.

In the present, he stopped hamming it up for the crowd and looked towards the bar, their gaze meeting over the crowd once more. _“Though it’s been a while now, I can still feel so much pain. Like a knife that cuts you, the wound heals. But the scar, that scar remains.”_ He sounded both wistful and sad as he continued, _“I know I could have saved our love that night if I’d known what to say. Instead of makin’ love, we both made our separate ways.”_

Zoey couldn’t breathe. She knew what was coming next. The words tore at her heart, as did the memory of the pain in his voice the first time he sang them, and she remembered how she’d almost raced after him that night. She’d wanted to grab a hold of him and tell him he was wrong, beg him not to give up on her yet. But she hadn’t been able to move then, any more than she could now.

_“And now I hear you found somebody new. And that I never meant that much to you. To hear that tears me up inside, and to see you cuts me like a knife.”_

After the conversation she overheard at her mother’s house, the words hurt even more than they had before. She didn’t think she could face him with her feelings so raw and close to the surface. “I have to go,” she blurted, putting the drink she’d barely touched back on the bar.

Simon looked at her in concern as she brushed past him. “Hey, are you okay?”

She nodded, though she was scared she would cry if she looked up at him. Swallowing heavily, she managed, “Yeah, of course. But it’s like you said. If he isn’t here because of Paige, then the last person he needs to see right now is me.”

The song had ended, so she knew Max would be making his way back to the bar, though she suspected the three drunk girls would be doing their best to waylay him. Still, she wanted to make sure she was gone before he returned. She knew that he’d never ask her to leave, even if her presence hurt him.

“You know, just because he thinks he wants to move on doesn’t mean you can’t change his mind.”

At that, she did shoot him a quick look. “Weren’t you the one telling me to stay out of his relationship if I really cared about him?”

Simon shrugged. “Yeah, but that was when he was dating someone. I didn’t say you couldn’t make your move when he was single again.”

The clock was ticking. Max would be back any moment. But there was something she had to know. “Why are you helping me? With our history, you know that’s a little weird, right?”

His smile was bittersweet as he shook his head. “Things may not have worked out between us, but I still care about you, Zoey. And I know you still care about him. I knew you did even when we were together. He makes you happy, and I want that for you. I mean that.”

“I want that for you too, Simon,” she said softly, reaching out to give his arm a friendly squeeze. But then, through the crowd, she saw Max approach and she panicked. Before she could second-guess her decision, she darted towards the door, making good her escape.

She should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. When she made her way outside, she sucked in a deep breath, savoring the fresh air after the hot stuffiness of the bar. But then she heard the door behind her open, followed by a quick shuffle of footsteps, and somehow wasn’t surprised when it was followed by Max’s voice.

“Zoey?” he asked, his voice confused and uncertain. “Are you okay?”

“What? Of course I am,” she replied, pasting on a fake smile as she turned to look at him. The bright lights of the bar spilled through the windows, illuminating one side of his face. She wanted to reach up and stroke his cheek, but she forced her hands to remain at her sides.

“You sure? You barely touched your drink.” She didn’t know what to say to that, so she didn’t say anything. Breaking the silence, he offered, “You know, you could stay. Have some drinks with me. Us. With us.” As though his brain was operating on a three second delay, he blurted, “Oh…is this about Simon? I know it’s probably weird, hanging out with him now. After everything. I’m sorry. I didn’t even think –”

Zoey honestly didn’t know whether to thank him for his consideration of her feelings or to tell him he was being an idiot. How could he think this had anything to do with Simon after everything that had happened between herself and Max? Not to mention after he sang her that song – although she tried to remind herself that, strictly speaking, he hadn’t been singing it to her, and he couldn’t have known the significance of it if he had.

“This isn’t about Simon,” she told him firmly, mentally reserving the right to call him an idiot later, if necessary. “He just told me why Leif wanted to take you out tonight, and I realized I shouldn’t be here.”

“Of course you should,” he protested, though even he didn’t sound convinced by his words.

Stepping toward him, she offered, “Okay. I tell you what. If you can honestly tell me that this is about Paige, I’ll go back in and finish my drink.” When he didn’t answer, she threw him a brittle smile. “See? I should go.”

Once again, his voice stopped her. “Wait,” he blurted, reaching for her before she could turn away. She looked down at the hand where he held her, his fingers pressing gently against her skin on the underside of her wrist, and she wondered if he could feel the way it raced under his touch. But when she looked at his face, she saw he was staring at his own hand like it was a mystery to him, like he hadn’t intended to reach for her and wasn’t sure what to do with her now that he’d caught her.

Still, when he finally lifted his gaze to her face, he didn’t let go. He wasn’t gripping her wrist hard; one good tug and she knew she’d pull herself free. But still she didn’t move. “Max?”

“You’re right. This isn’t about Paige,” he admitted, giving her arm a tug to bring her close as he bent and pressed his lips against hers. She waited for him to wrap his arms around her, but he didn’t. Throughout the kiss, they didn’t touch save for his mouth against hers and his hand on her wrist.

She could taste the beer he’d been drinking on his tongue, and it made her hesitate. How much had he drunk that night? Enough to regret this kiss tomorrow? She didn’t want to take that risk, so she pulled back, breaking off the kiss.

Silence stretched between them as his fingers slowly slid down her own until he released her, dropping his hand to his side. She knew if she turned and walked away now, he wouldn’t follow her. But still, she remained rooted to the spot, unable to leave him as he whispered, “Don't go. Stay with me, Zoey.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Zoey should tell Max no, and she knew it. She should turn him down and walk away. After making sure he would get home safely, of course. But she _definitely_ shouldn’t go home with him. Except, even as she reminded herself of all the things she should – or, more specifically, _shouldn’t_ do – she knew exactly what she _would_ do. She was going to stay with Max. Because he asked her to, and because she couldn’t deny him anything. Certainly not something she herself wanted.

“Come on,” she murmured, reaching out her hand. “Let’s get you home.” He grinned in response, taking her hand as she pulled out her phone to call an Uber. Thankfully, the app indicated one was only a few minutes away, prompting a sigh of relief. All she had to do was get him home, make sure he was tucked safely in bed…alone, and then head back to her own apartment. Again, alone. Without crossing any further lines or doing anything that she – or more likely he – would regret in the morning.

Which all sounded incredibly simple and straightforward in her head, but it wasn’t as easy in practice. She should have taken it as a sign of what was to come when the car drove up and Max actually resisted her attempts to get him safely inside first. It was a little embarrassing, grappling with a laughing, obviously inebriated man on the curb, particularly since it was so obvious that she was both stone cold sober and still losing. So she finally gave in with a huff, sinking onto the seat and sliding across before he followed. Her momentary concern for her dignity as she tried to find a way to scoot across a seat without looking utterly absurd was unnecessary, as Max fell into the car and somehow almost missed the seat entirely.

“How much did you have to drink, anyway?” she grumbled as he shut the door.

He didn’t seem particularly concerned about the question, giving a slight shrug in response. “I don’t know. Few beers. Some shots. I think the shots are kicking in,” he slurred.

“He’s not going to puke in my car, is he?” the driver asked in concern, throwing them a dubious glare in her rear-view mirror.

Zoey looked at Max askance as she wondered the same thing, but he didn’t seem nauseated, so she shook her head. “I think he’s okay, and we’re not going far,” she promised. Which was probably fortunate, because Max didn’t seem nauseated, but he _did_ seem flirtatious, throwing his arm around her shoulders as she settled back in her seat.

“Thanks for taking me home, Zo. Zoey, Zoooooeeeey…” He dragged out the word as though to feel how it tasted on his tongue. “I like your name.” He ducked his head for a kiss, but Zoey jerked away, putting a hand up between them. “You don’t want to kiss me?” he asked, sounding hurt.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Not like this. Not when you’re drunk.”

“I’m completely sober!” he protested, prompting a disbelieving snort from the driver. “And I like kissing you. I like your name, and I like kissing you. What do you think that means?”

“I think it means you should have passed on the shots,” she grumbled.

“I’m pretty sure it’s because I love you,” he argued. Leaning his head back against the seat, he sighed. “I love you so much.”

Okay, they definitely could _not_ go there in the state he was in. Let alone the state she was in. Was he _trying_ to break her? Eager to change the subject, she raised her voice and asked, “Can we put on some music or something? I don’t want -”

That brought Max bolt upright again to ask, “You want me to sing something? I can –”

“No!” she yelped, slapping a hand over his mouth. She was afraid he would sing a love song to her, and her resolve was shaky enough as it was. She didn’t think she could handle that, whether or not it was a heartsong.

She felt his lips curve under her hand, and then something wet hit her palm. “Max! Did you just _lick_ me?” she chided him, yanking her hand away to wipe it on the sleeve of his shirt. “Honestly, you’re a _weird_ drunk.”

His contrite look didn’t entirely genuine as he took her hand. “I’m sorry,” he told her softly, raising her hand to his lips. Very slowly, and with more deliberation than she would have thought him capable at the moment, he pressed her fingers against his lips, kissing each in turn. “Better?”

Yes. No? She honestly didn’t know. She may have preferred it when he’d licked her palm, because that didn’t make her want to pull him closer and continue the kiss they’d exchanged on the street. Something she’d already sworn to herself she was absolutely _not going to do_ while he was drunk like this. He was looking at her, his eyes expectant, so she finally managed in a voice barely above a breath, “I – I don’t know.”

She could have lunged into the front seat and kissed the driver in relief when the other woman pulled up front of the curb and announced, “We’re here!”

“Thank god,” Zoey breathed, her fingers fumbling with the handle before practically falling out of the car onto the sidewalk. Straightening, she dusted herself off and grabbed Max’s hand, propelling him gently to the front door. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.” Truth be told, if he didn’t want to join her, she doubted she was physically strong enough to press the issue, but he seemed eager enough to let her lead him. Though they had a narrow escape on the stairs leading up to the building’s front door, when he stumbled and almost dragged the two of them to the ground. She wasn’t sure how they avoided a catastrophe, but when she led him inside and realized the potential for disaster on the flights leading up to his floor, she changed direction and led him to the elevator instead.

 _Almost there_ , she reassured herself as she collapsed back against the wall with a sigh of relief. She just had to get him into his apartment – and ideally to his bed, if they could manage it without incident or, worse, temptation – and then beat a hasty retreat. None of those things involved talking about their feelings, which seemed like an unfair thing to do when he was drunk. They definitely didn’t involve her kissing him again. So as long as she stuck to the plan, she would be alright.

Unfortunately for her shaky willpower, Max wasn’t operating by the same playbook, because he scooted towards her and took her hand. “I missed you tonight.” His words were innocent enough, but his touch burned through her like fire, making her want to wrap herself in his embrace. Why weren’t they at his floor yet? Why did this damn elevator have to take so long?

She shot a glance at the nearby panel, wondering if she’d even remembered to hit the button for his floor in her distraction. Grimacing, she reached out to do so, her finger only an inch away from the panel when the lights went out.

“What? Oh no oh no oh no,” she mumbled. It was pitch black in the elevator, the building too old to have emergency lights working on a generator, so she couldn’t see the button to open the doors. So she lurched towards the control panel and pounded all of them as fast as she could, as though she could generate the necessary energy to power the elevator through repetition alone. “Don’t do this to me. _Please_ don’t do this to me!”

Misunderstanding the cause of her panic – which was her proximity to him and wavering resolve – Max pulled her into his arms. “It’s okay. Don’t be scared, Zoey. I’m here.” His mouth was too close to her ear, sending a shiver of desire down her spine at the soft caress of his breath against the side of her neck.

“Yeah, that’s kind of my problem,” she whispered, even as she gripped onto his shoulders, holding him tight.

He either didn’t hear her, or her words didn’t penetrate his haze of alcohol and desire, because he nuzzled his cheek against her neck, his faint stubble scraping lightly against her soft skin. “God, you smell good.”

“Max…we – we can’t do this,” she breathed, ordering herself to push him away even as her body instinctively drew him closer. “You’re drunk, and – and you don’t want this. I mean, you might right now, but you won’t tomorrow. And I don’t want to make you do something you’ll regret.”

“I could never regret loving you,” he promised in an undertone, pressing a warm kiss against the curve of her neck.

It seemed unfair to discuss their feelings when he was drunk. She remembered how hurt Max had been when she’d confessed that she’d learned about his feelings for her through her powers. He was drunk, not thinking straight, and she was afraid any kind of discussion of their relationship would be taking advantage of his alcohol-induced emotional and physical vulnerability. But even as she resisted, her powers had other plans.

Max’s hands slid from her waist to her back, and in the darkness, she heard music start to play. “No, not now,” she moaned miserably, her head dropping against his chest. He hadn’t sung a heartsong to her in a long time. Not since he let her go. He’d learned somehow to guard his heart better and not let her in. But his inebriation had left him with a chink in his armor – one her powers seemed more than happy to exploit.

Spinning around with her in his arms, Max sang to her in the darkness. _“You, doin’ that thing you do, breaking my heart into a million pieces. Like you always do. And you don’t mean to be cruel, but you never even knew about the heartache I’ve been goin’ through. Well, I try and try to forget you girl, but it’s oh so hard to do. Every time you do that thing you do.”_

Dropping to his knees, she felt him press his cheek against her stomach before pulling her down into his lap as he continued, _“And I know all the games you play. And I’m gonna find a way to let you know that you’ll be mine someday. ‘Cause we could be happy, can’t you see? If you’d only let me be the one to hold you, and keep you here with me.”_

Lifting her off him, she heard a soft thud against the floor of the elevator as he jumped to his feet. _“’Cause it hurts me so just to see you go around with someone new. And if I know you, you’re doin’ that thing you –“_

Grabbing wildly in the dark, she clutched his arm with one hand and slapped the other across his mouth to stop his song. At least, that was what she was aiming for. She only partially hit her target, her hand landing across his nose at first, before she slid it to cover his mouth and stop his song. It was the only thing she’d found that had stopped his song before, and she vehemently hoped it would do so now.

“Listen to me,” she said firmly, her voice echoing in the sudden silence that filled their confined space. She hadn’t wanted to have this conversation now, but she couldn’t leave his confession hanging like that without responding with the truth. Let alone his song. “I love you too, Max. I know you don’t believe that, but it’s true.”

Oblivious to the fact he had just sung her a song, Max moved in her arms, pressing a kiss against the curve of her jaw once she pulled her hand away. “I believe you,” he said in soft protest.

“But not enough,” she added, saying the words he hadn’t. “You don’t think I love you as much as you love me.”

His lips paused against her skin, and she felt bereft and cold when he straightened. “No.”

Zoey didn’t know if he’d intended to move away, but she wasn’t about to let him. Although she’d told herself moments before that she should push him away, now she clung to him, holding on tight in the darkness. Maybe now, when they couldn’t see each other, she could find the courage to be honest with him and say the things she should have said on their date-that-wasn’t-a-date. “You don’t know that! How can you possibly know that?” she demanded.

Max’s fingers were clumsy but gentle as he caressed her, pushing her hair off of her face in the darkness. “’Cause I never could have chosen anyone over you.” His voice was low, but his tone was earnest. Devoid of self-pity or regret. A simple statement of fact, at least as he saw it.

“Max,” she breathed. “It isn’t…that’s not…”

“it’s okay, Zoey,” he reassured her. “I know you can’t help the way you feel.”

Although the darkness had provided her some cover and made it easier, perhaps, to have this conversation, she wished she could see his face now. Maybe she would see something there that would help her find a way to get through to him. Feeling her way along his shoulders, up his neck, to his face, she cupped his face in her hands. “I know this isn’t the right time to have this conversation, but I need you to listen to me. I love you. I love _you_ , Max. I know I was scared and stupid, and I pushed you away. But that doesn’t change the fact that I love you. _I love you_. And I’ll say it however many times I need to for you to believe me. I love you. I love you. _I love you_. I. Love. You. I -”

Before she could continue in her determination to repeat those three little words until either he believed her or they ran out of oxygen and died, the lights flickered back on at just that moment, illuminating the two of them as they clung to each other in the middle of the elevator. In the darkness, it had been easy to convince herself that she might get through to him, but now that she could see him, she was reminded just how drunk he was. There was a chance he wouldn’t even remember any of this tomorrow, let alone that her repeated confession would do anything to change his mind.

A long, awkward silence stretched between them, and then Zoey sighed and stepped back. Feeling defeated, she hit the button for his floor, feeling a wave of relief sweep over her when she felt the ground beneath her move. So much for her determination to get him safely home without doing anything that she would regret.

“All right. Let’s get you in bed,” she said as she took the keys from his hand a few moments later. The lock turned easily under her hand, and she pushed open his front door and led him inside. Although she intended to direct him straight to the bedroom, he headed for the couch instead, collapsing onto it with a contented sigh as he patted the seat in a silent invitation for her to join him. “Max, no. It’s late. It’s time for you to go to sleep.”

“I don’t want to go to sleep,” he protested with a level of obstinance typically shared only by the very inebriated and the very young. “Come on. Just one movie?”

She shook her head. “I should go. It’s late, and I’m tired, and -”

“But you said you’d stay with me. And I like it when you’re here.”

He looked so adorable, his eyes wide and pleading, that Zoey knew it was useless to resist. Her heart wouldn’t listen to her anyway. So it was with a heavy sigh of defeat that she crossed the room and plopped onto the couch next to him. “All right. One movie,” she promised, grabbing for the remote and flipping through the channels. With as drunk as he was, she figured it would be a miracle if he lasted the full duration of a film. Once he was asleep, she’d sneak out, and he’d be none the wiser.

Though she’d tried to maintain some distance between them, Max scooted closer and leaned against her in a boneless collapse that almost stole her breath away as she bore his weight on her side. “Oof!” she protested, giving him a halfhearted push. “You’re heavy.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, leaning forward to collapse into the couch instead, his head landing on her lap. Tilting his head to look up at her, he announced abruptly, “You’re so beautiful. Have I ever told you that?”

She felt the corners of her mouth twitch as she pointed out, “And you’re drunk.”

“I know. But you’re still beautiful.” He turned his attention back to the television, and Zoey rested one hand on his side, feeling the pattern of his breathing so she would know when he fell asleep. With her other hand, she idly ran her fingers through his hair. She would have liked to believe her only motivation was soothing him to sleep so she could get home and get in a few hours of rest before she had to get up for work, but she didn’t even bother to lie to herself. She was touching him because she wanted to.

As she felt his breathing start to slow and realized he was drifting off to sleep, she stopped even pretending to pay attention to the television and dropped her gaze to the man still lying with his head in her lap. Keeping her voice soft and low so she didn’t disturb him, she sang the words to him that he had once sung to her. She’d never heard the song before he’d sung it to her, and she’d been unable to get it out of her mind ever since.

_“We go together. Better than birds of a feather, you and me. We change the weather. I’m feeling heat in December when you’re ‘round me. I’ve been dancing on top of cars, and stumbling out of bars. I follow you through the dark, can’t get enough. You’re the medicine and the pain, the tattoo inside my brain. And baby, you know it’s obvious. I’m a sucker for you. You say the word, and I’ll go anywhere blindly. I’m a sucker for you…”_

She let her voice trail off as she focused on the steady in and out of his breath. Finally, leaning down, she whispered, “I love you, Max. More than you’ll ever know. And I don’t know how, but I’m going to find a way to prove it to you.”


	10. Chapter 10

Zoey was sore when she got up the next morning, late enough that it was almost the next afternoon. Although she’d intended to leave as soon as Max had fallen asleep, she was comforted by his presence and the warmth of his body, and she’d lingered a little too long. Still stroking her fingers through his hair, she’d drifted off to sleep, waking up halfway through a different film. Stiff from having fallen asleep sitting up, she’d somehow managed to scoot out from under Max without waking him and tiptoed out the door to return home.

She scowled at her image in the bathroom mirror as she brushed her teeth, noting the bags under her eyes, still puffy from lack of sleep. As exhausted as she’d been when she returned home, she’d expected to drift off to sleep immediately. Instead, she’d tossed and turned, replaying her conversation with Max in the elevator over and over in her mind. How was she ever going to prove her feelings to him?

Her bare feet padded silently across the floor as she meandered into the kitchen, letting her eyes drift over the items in her refrigerator in a halfhearted perusal. Uninspired by her options, she grabbed some orange juice, pouring it into a glass and taking a deep sip as she made her way to her kitchen island. The combination of mint toothpaste and orange juice made her grimace, and she took another quick sip to try to wash away the taste.

Zoey heaved a heavy sigh as she braced her cheek on her fist, reaching for her laptop more out of obligation than from a genuine desire to check her e-mail. As she pulled it closer, her hand hit the spine of her journal, where she’d kept notes and reminders about her daily life from the day she got her job at SPRQ Point. Most of the entries were related to work, although that wasn’t always the case. Abandoning her computer for the moment, she grabbed for her journal instead, opening it in one smooth gesture and flipping through the pages idly to skim the writing inside.

She felt her mouth curve into a smile as her eyes caught on one entry. _“—cancelled dinner with Chris. We were supposed to check out a new French restaurant, La Piquette. Max called off sick today. Want to swing by his apartment after work to check on him. Didn’t sound like my kinda place to eat, anyway.”_

She turned a few more pages, her eyes catching on another entry. _“Max attended his very first official Clarke Family Cookout last night. David challenged him to a gummy bear eating contest, and his stomach is still hurting him today. He’s such a dork. Got some Pepto Bismol to keep in my desk from now on, just in case. As for who won? David swears it was a tie, but I’m not so sure—”_

Page after page, her eyes fell upon his name. _“Max has a new girlfriend. Melanie. I passed her in the hallway today, and I’m not sure if she’s the right girl for him. Just something about her vibe. Not that I’d tell him that. I told him she seemed nice, when he asked. Anyway, I could be wrong about her. I just want him to be happy—”_

_“—and Melanie broke up. Thank god. She was very open with the PDA, and it was making things weird. Though I could just be in a bad mood. Took Max to that French restaurant—La Piquette—to cheer him up. The food was excellent, but Chris got mad when I told him. He doesn’t believe Max and I are just friends. HUGE fight, and we didn’t leave things at a very good place. Another one bites the dust, I guess, but at least this means I don’t have to worry about Date Night interfering with Movie Night with Max for a while. Silver lining?”_

_“Max is wearing a new shirt today. Must remember to ask him if he’s actually color blind.”_

_“—at work. I’ve never seen Joan as angry as she was today. She found out a headhunter’s been coming around, poaching some staff. I just hope they don’t have their sights set on Max. Is that selfish? If he was offered a great opportunity to advance his career, as his friend, I’d have to support him. But I’d miss him too much if he left. I can’t imagine working here without him. (Okay, yes. That’s selfish, Zoey. That’s basically the textbook definition of selfish. In my defense, he is my best friend.)”_

_“Is it okay to ask your brother’s new coworker out on a date? Or is that weird? Not that I apparently have much of a chance. Was at lunch with Max last week when we ran into David and Paul. He asked how long the two of us have been dating. Why does everyone always think Max and I are dating?”_

_“—telling myself that I’m better off without Paul, but if it wasn’t for Max, I’m not sure what I’d do. And wine. Don’t forget the wine. I didn’t realize it until last night, but Max was right. Paul does have beady eyes. I’m better off without him. What would I do without Max? He really is the best friend I could ever—”_

_“Max went on a date with someone named Gretchen last night. He really seems to like her. I’m happy for him. Really.”_

_“—laugh is a little grating. How does Max not find her laugh grating? Not that it’s any of my business. He’s the one who’ll have to listen to it for the rest of his life if they make it to a third date—”_

_“—another failed attempt to introduce myself to Simon. At least Max—”_

She skipped ahead several pages, not wanting to revisit the early days of her crush on Simon. Or her willful avoidance of her feelings for Max. Picking a page at random, she stopped and read, _“—one of our movie nights, and I somehow forgot about things for a while. Which makes me feel so guilty. What kind of daughter does that make me? Max made me laugh, but that just made things even worse. How could I be happy without Dad here? If I told Max, I know he’d say Dad would want me to be happy. He wouldn’t understand—”_

Zoey quickly turned several more pages. She couldn’t bear to relive the loss of her father, so she flipped towards the end to avoid the painful memories. _“—I wish I could figure out how to stop hurting him, but I don’t know how to explain to him that I can’t bear for him to see me like this. Max says he understands, of course, but I’m still angry all the time. At everyone. I know it isn’t fair, but if he can be patient just a little bit longer—”_

_“I saw Mom today. She tried to put on a brave face for me, but her eyes were red and puffy. I didn’t even have to call Max when I left. He heard I was at my parents’ house and came by to make sure I was okay. I don’t know how Mom does it. I can’t imagine having to carry on after losing someone you love as much as she loved Dad. She says it was worth it, but would it really be that bad to be alone?”_

_“Simon and I got into another argument, and Max isn’t returning any of my calls. I don’t know what to do. I’ve been pushing him away for so long…"_

She flipped ahead a few more pages. _“—screwed things up with Max, and I know it. How do I fix this? What am I going to do without him?”_

_“—going to try to talk to Max today. I don’t know what I’ll say to him, but I’ve got to try. I can’t just leave things like this. Maybe it sounds silly. He’s just a few floors away! But I miss him…”_

Before she could finish the perusal of her journal, Zoey heard a knock on the door. Stifling a yawn, she got to her feet and crossed the room to answer, assuming it would be Mo on the other side. She let out a tiny squeak of surprise, instinctively slamming the door shut, when she saw Max on her doorstep instead, as though she’d conjured him there with her thoughts.

Her eyes were wide with horror as the echo of the shutting door faded. She looked down to verify that her suspicions were correct. She really was still in her nightclothes. Though why that should make her panic was beyond her; it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her in her pajamas before. But it just seemed different now. It was hard to imagine she could sweep him off his feet in a ratty old NASA shirt and cotton pants.

There was another second of silence, and then she heard another tentative knock on her door. Her tongue flicked against her lower lip as she reached for the handle. He’d already seen her; she could hardly pretend that she wasn’t home. Sucking in a deep breath, she pasted a smile on her face and pulled open the door again. “H-hey, Max,” she greeted him weakly.

His brow was furrowed in concern as he looked down at her. “Hey. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, of course. I was surprised, that’s all. Come on in.” She stepped back so he could scoot past her and closed the door behind him. “Anyway, how are you feeling? I figured you’d still be in bed, sleeping off the effects of last night.”

He winced. “I wish. I’m pretty sure my head’s three times bigger than usual. That’s not a problem, right? Anyway, I probably should be lying in bed, making out my Last Will and Testament, but I wanted to come by and say thank you. For last night.”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to thank me, Max. What are friends for?” Clearing her throat, she added, “So, uh, what do you remember about last night, anyway?” Did he remember their conversation in the elevator? Their kiss? Had he heard her sing to him?

Max shrugged. “Ah, not much,” he admitted. “That last round of shots hit me like a freight train.”

“Oh,” she said, uncertain whether to be relieved or disappointed. Did she want him to remember? She didn’t know, and that made her decide to change the subject. “So did their plan work? Did your night out with the boys help you get over Paige?”

Max blew out a long breath. “Zoey, you and I both know that last night wasn’t about her.” She dropped her gaze to the floor, uncertain how to respond, and she saw his feet move as he took a half step away. He continued, “Anyway, you’re not going to believe this, but I think Tobin had an ulterior motive. I’m pretty sure he’s going to ask her out.”

“Really? What makes you say that?”

He grinned. “The rambling message he left on my voicemail at three in the morning.” When she didn’t respond right away, he said, “You know, it threw me a little at first, but as I think about it, it makes a certain amount of sense. They seemed to get along, and she’ll certainly keep him on his toes.”

Zoey chuckled. “Yeah. You know, now that I think about it, the two of them would talk a _lot_ when she’d come by to see you.”

“Yeah. I hope things work out for them. Paige deserves to be happy.”

“So do you, you know,” she told him in an undertone.

Max shifted closer to her, and her heart started to race at the look in his eyes. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Yeah.”

His hands wrapped around her hips, pulling her close as he kissed her. She moaned, her fingers digging into his shoulders. “Max, are you sure?” she asked, her question almost swallowed by his mouth.

He pulled back, but he didn’t release her. “I appreciate what the guys were trying to do, but if there’s anything I learned last night, it’s that there’s no point. I’m never going to be able to get over you. So…I know I’ve been pushing you away, but I really wanted to come over here to ask…do you want to give this a shot? You and me?”

Her body ached to say yes, but there was one thing she needed to know first. “Before I answer…um, what you said last night…that you don’t think I love you as much…you don’t feel that way anymore?” He hesitated a moment too long, and she felt a pain in her chest as she stepped back, pulling out of his arms. “I can’t do this.”

“Oh,” he said, his voice a little distant as he straightened. “I’m sorry. I guess I thought—”

Reaching toward him, she rested her hands against his chest. “You have no idea how much I want to say yes. But I’ve been selfish when it comes to you, and that needs to stop. I know that you think that I chose Simon over you, but it’s not that simple. The thing is, I always thought that there could be nothing worse than losing you, but I was wrong. I would rather lose you completely than hurt you or make you miserable.”

Max rested his hands gently on top of hers. “Then we might be at an impasse, because I’m miserable without you.”

“You say that now, but I think it would be worse, if the whole time we were together, part of you was waiting for it to end. I can’t live like that, and I can’t do that to you, either. I know I hurt you. A lot. And I may not ever be able to undo that. But there’s something you should know.”

Turning, she reached for her journal, her hand hovering over it for the span of two heartbeats as she tried to gather the courage to pick it up. She’d never thought about it as her diary. She didn’t even keep it particularly safeguarded. But skimming through it earlier in the day, there was no doubt that it held some of her most private thoughts. It was going to take a lot of courage to hand it over to Max, to invite him to get a glimpse into the deepest parts of herself, the thoughts she’d never intended anyone else to know. Then again, wasn’t that what she did, every time she heard one of his heart songs?

“Here,” she said firmly, picking it up and thrusting it in his direction. “I want you to read this.”

“I-what?” he asked, looking at the item in her hand like it was poisonous. “I can’t – that’s your journal, Zoey! I can’t read that!”

“You can. It’s okay. I want you to!” she reassured him. When he still didn’t seem to understand, she explained, “I’ve been trying to find a way to show you how much you mean to me. And for how long. And the problem is, you’ve been so important to me for so long, I didn’t want to admit how I felt. Even to myself. I-I was looking at this earlier today, and…it’s all here. My life with you…it’s on every page. And even if it’s too late for – for the two of us, I need you to see this. I need you to know that…you _matter_ to me. You always have. it wasn’t about choosing Simon over you. It was about fear. I just realized it a little too late.”

He didn’t move. He just stared at the journal in her hand. Not moving away, but not reaching to take it either. When he finally spoke, she was surprised to hear him say, “You shouldn’t let me off the hook like that.”

“What?” she asked, confused by his apparent change of subject.

“You said you were selfish when it comes to me, but you weren’t the only one.” Meeting her eyes, he confessed, “I will never regret how I feel about you, but I wish I’d realized it a lot sooner. Or way later. When I realized that I was in love with you, I knew you were going through a hard time with your—” his voice trailed off, like he was scared it would hurt her to hear the word, “—your dad. You had a lot going on, and the last thing you needed was to deal with this on top of it. Maybe you were selfish, but…I was too. And I’m sorry for putting that on you when you were already dealing with so much.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond when he gently took the journal from her hand. Bracing herself, she began, “If you want to read that, I can, um—”

“I’m not going to read this,” he told her firmly, carefully returning it to its rightful place on the counter.

“Oh, but you need to know—” she began to protest, but he shook his head to cut her off.

“Like I said, it’s private. And I don’t need to read it. I already know.” At her confused expression, he answered the question she hadn’t yet asked. “Because if I kept a journal of the last few years, you’d be on every page too. Even before I realized I was in love with you.”

Slowly, as though afraid he would scare her away, he reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and she melted into his touch. “So what do we do now?” she breathed.

“Now?” he asked, his voice filled with affection though he sounded a little uncertain. “Now we admit that we both hurt each other. Even if that wasn’t what we wanted. We forgive each other. And maybe…we agree to start over.”

“I’d like that,” Zoey admitted.

He didn’t seem any more certain of how to proceed than she did, because he threw her an anxious smile. “So, do we pretend to introduce ourselves for the first time? Like, ‘Hello, my name is Max Richman’?”

“Zoey Clarke,” she returned, playing along long enough to shake his hand. Then she didn’t even hesitate before launching herself into his arms, wrapping her hands around the back of his neck to pull him down for a kiss.

“Zoey!” he protested, his laugh muffled by her lips. “I don’t want to push you to take things too fast…”

“Too fast?” she demanded, pulling him towards the couch. “We’ve been building towards this for _five years_! If this is fast, I’d hate to see your definition of slow!” His laugh became a yelp of surprise as she pushed him onto the sofa, falling on top of him. “The way I see it, we’re just making up for lost time.”

His answering grin made her heart start to race. “I can get behind that.” Her moan of pleasure turned into a gasp of mock outrage, however, when he pressed his lips against the side of her neck and began to sing softly, his voice slightly teasing, _"...you know it’s obvious. I’m a sucker for you. You say the word, and I’ll go anywhere blindly..."_

"You _did_ hear me!" she demanded, her body belying her outrage as she melted against him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as he sat up and pulled her into his lap.

"Maybe a little," he admitted, his lips traveling along the curve of her neck. "But is that really what you want to talk about right now?"

"Ye-no," she admitted, only a little begrudgingly. "But later." When his hands drifted lower, she sucked in a shaky breath. "Much...much later."


	11. Chapter 11

“You ready for this?” Max asked in an undertone, holding out his arm.

Placing her hand gently on his forearm, Zoey murmured teasingly, “Is now a good time to mention that you just sang a song to me?”

He pursed his lips slightly and seemed to consider her question as, on the other side of the doorway, music began to play. “Given the circumstances, I don’t know if I’m embarrassed you heard me sing a heartsong, or if it would be worse if you didn’t.”

“Probably depends on the song,” she admitted as the doors in front of them opened.

He held back, stealing one more moment with her to ask, “Should I be worried?”

There was a lightness in his chest when he heard her giggle. “I’ll tell you later,” she promised. “Now come on. If we keep stalling, people will think you’re getting cold feet.”

“Never,” he vowed, lifting her hand to press a kiss against the back as they stepped across the threshold and made their way slowly down the aisle. With Mitch gone, Zoey had debated asking her brother to stand in, but she’d eventually asked Max to walk with her instead. He had been by her side for so long, first as friends and then as lovers, that taking this walk arm-in-arm only seemed right.

Max barely noticed the people on either side of the aisle, smiling in greeting. He only had eyes for Zoey as they approached the canopy, pausing a few steps before reaching the officiant who was overseeing their blended ceremony. It was only then that he pulled his attention from his bride, turning to shake his father’s hand and give his mother a brief hug, while Zoey greeted her own mother with a kiss on the cheek.

He was surprised – though, in retrospect, he realized he shouldn’t have been – when Maggie pulled him into a hug, as well. She and Mitch had accepted him as a member of their family long before it became official, and his only regret on this day was that Zoey’s father couldn’t be here to share in this celebration of their love. Although still, deep down, he felt that Mitch had known the depth of his love for Zoey – and likely had even before Max had realized his own feelings.

A moment later, Zoey reached out and took his hand, and the congregation took their seats as they two stepped forward. But Max was no longer thinking about anyone but her, and the promise he had already made in his heart, that he would spend the rest of his life doing whatever he could to make her happy. Although he had apparently sung to Zoey at least once already that day, he suspected their guests didn't need a similar superpower to know his love for her. Everyone could likely read his true feelings in the look on his face, which seemed only fitting. It was their wedding day, after all.

From beneath her veil, Zoey met his eyes, a small smile lurking at the corners of her mouth, as the officiant began to speak. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

The ceremony itself passed in a blur, although Max would always remember slipping the wedding band on Zoey’s trembling finger. Trying at first to put it on the wrong hand, in his nervousness and excitement, until she gently corrected him with a light laugh. He wouldn’t remember silently mouthing her vows along with her, didn’t even realize he was doing it, although she would swear for years later that he had. At the end of the ceremony, he heard, “You ma—” and leaned in to kiss her, not even bothering to wait until the final blessing was done.

He had played their wedding over and over in his mind hundreds of times, imaging what it would be like to marry Zoey even before she knew how he felt about her. He thought he would handle the event with grace and aplomb, but his giddiness led to distraction. In comparison to his nervous excitement, Zoey seemed almost uncharacteristically calm and collected throughout the ceremony, even having to hold him back from prematurely guiding her back down the aisle, before they had a chance to break a glass, according to Jewish tradition, let alone be named husband and wife. The audience laughed, and he threw them a sheepish smile as she dragged him back into place, the officiant teasing him gently while the glass was placed at his feet.

He stomped on it hard, feeling it shatter beneath his feet, as the congregation yelled, “Mazal tov!” And then time seemed to speed up again. The officiant introduced them as Mr. And Mrs. Richman, and the significance of the event – this first acknowledgment that Zoey was _his wife_ , he was _married to her_ , to the _love of his life_ – brought tears to his eyes, even as he smiled with joy. He heard more than one person murmur a soft, “aw,” as Zoey led him back down the aisle, but he didn’t try to hide the evidence of his emotion. The whole world could see how much he loved her; he wasn’t ashamed.

At the end of the aisle, Zoey grabbed his hand, pulling him into another room to steal a few minutes of privacy before the chaos of the reception. As soon as the door closed behind them, he pulled her into his arms, gently removing the pins holding her veil in place to toss it aside.

“Are you crying? I hope at least they’re happy tears, and not your way of telling me that you’ve got regrets already,” she teased him gently. “Because I hate to break it to you, but it’s a little late to back out now. You’re mine, and I don’t plan to ever let you go.”

He shook his head, though her features were blurred through the haze of tears in his eyes. “No backing out, and how do you know I’m crying? Maybe it’s you!”

“It could be,” she admitted, and when he lifted a hand to cup her cheek, he was surprised to find moisture there. “I can’t help it if I’m happy.” Wrapping her arms around his neck, she drew him down for a kiss, murmuring against his lips, “I love you, Max Richman.”

“I love you, Zoey Clarke Richman,” he replied in a voice barely above a whisper, thrilling at the taste of her name on his tongue.

She stilled against his lips, her mouth curving into a grin, and he could feel her slight inhale of air. “Say it again,” she demanded.

He didn’t need her to ask twice. “I. Love. You. Zoey. Clarke. Richman,” he repeated, punctuating each word with a kiss.

“You know, I like the way that sounds. I could get used to hearing it.”

“Lucky then that you’ll be hearing it every day for the next fifty years or so,” he replied, but before he could draw her in for another kiss, she let out a sharp cry.

“Hold on! There’s something I almost forgot!” she blurted, pulling out of his arms. “I have a gift for you. I left it in here earlier.”

Feeling bereft of her presence already, Max pouted slightly as he followed her across the room to see her pick up a wrapped package out from the seat of the couch resting against the wall. He had given her his wedding present before the ceremony – a locket she now wore, with a picture of her father inside. Along with the locket, he had given her a matching charm on a ribbon to wrap around her bridal bouquet, as a reminder that she carried Mitch with her on her wedding day, even though he was gone.

“What is this?” he asked, his fingers running slowly along the edges of the gift.

She rolled her eyes at him good-naturedly. “If you open it, you’ll know!” she retorted. She never could wait to tear into presents as soon as she received them, so his delay of ten seconds was probably testing her limits.

He was tempted to tease her longer, but time was ticking away. They had only another minute or two before they had to make their way to the reception, to the endless series of wedding photos and toasts. To Joan telling everyone who would listen that _she_ was the one who had brought them together, concocting an excuse to make their teams collaborate on a project until they admitted their feelings for each other (because it was either that or she’d planned to lock the two of them in a closet together). Max and Zoey both listened to this story with good grace because in all honesty, they weren’t entirely sure she didn’t carry some responsibility for helping them sort things out. And whatever had caused the two of them to get past the hurt and pain of the past to find each other again, Max thanked his lucky stars for it every single day.

He’d been lost in thought for just long enough that Zoey looked tempted to snatch the gift from his hands and tear off the wrapping paper herself, so he pulled his attention back to the present and put her out of her misery. Under the paper was a book, bound in soft leather. “What is this?” he asked, gently pulling it open to see a picture of the two of them, taken during Zoey’s first week at work. He remembered when he’d snapped the photo of the two of them, joking that one day, she’d want to look back to treasure the memories of how their friendship had all began. At the time, he’d had no way of knowing how right he would be. But as he turned the page, he saw lines of text copied one after the other, like excerpted paragraphs joined together, and he fell silent as he skimmed some of the words.

_“Max Richman. Is it too early to say friend for life? I can already tell he is exactly the kind of friend I’m going to need, working at a place like this, so why did I spend the last hour trying to subtly figure out if he has a girlfriend? That doesn’t mean anything, right? Friends care about each other’s love lives! If I tell him that the first thing I thought when I saw him was that he was kinda hot, would that make things weird? Yeah, that would make things weird. Unless you want to mess things up between you, better take that secret to the grave, Zoey.”_

Trying to make sense of the book in his hand, he flipped ahead a couple more pages. _“I noticed today that Max is kinda adorable when he laughs. Which is a totally normal thing to notice about one’s best friend. I love my job, but getting to work with someone like him every day makes it even better. I can’t figure out why he doesn’t have a girlfriend. I invited him over to my place to watch a movie tonight, so maybe I can ask him then? Platonically. I will platonically ask about his love life while we platonically watch a movie together. Because that’s a thing friends do.”_

_“Max ate the last chocolate chip cookie from the pastry bar today. He’s lucky he’s my best friend, because it’s the only reason I didn’t murder him on the spot.”_

After skimming a few more lines, he turned the page to find a picture of Zoey and Max at a Clarke family cookout, standing next to Mitch as the three of them laughed at a joke long since forgotten. He continued flipping through the pages to see more of the same – more photos of excerpted passages, with the occasional photograph of the two of them, a reminder of how their relationship had grown over the years.

He looked up at his bride, and as their eyes met, she explained, “I know you said you didn’t want to read my journal because it’s private, but I wanted you to have these. Each of these pages carries a reminder of who you are to me. Who you’ve always been. I just wish I’d realized it sooner.”

He smiled, lifting one hand to trail his finger along the soft curve of her cheek. “No regrets, Zoey. Remember? If the past brought us to where we are today, then…it was worth it. Because now I get to tell people that I married my best friend. What could be better than that?”

The smile she threw him in return was tremulous as she raised up on her toes to give him one last kiss before they had to return to their guests. “The only thing better than marrying my best friend is getting to spend the rest of my life with him. I love you, you know.”

Seeing the obvious love in her eyes, he wondered how he ever could have doubted it. Thankfully, those days were long past. “Yeah,” he admitted, knowing she could see a similar love reflected in his own eyes. "I do."


End file.
